The edge
by Shockey13
Summary: Written for the heatwave prompt created by CSI Encyclopedia and given to me by indigovioletstargazer. Begins sometime during season 4 in Pakistan. AU but has many themes and characters from season 4.
1. Jumper

A/N: My fic for the prompt **Heatwave.** So I know these are suppose to be one shots, but I might add a chapter or two to this later. Not 100% sure. Rating may change too. Let me know what you think.**  
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* * *

She stares straight down at the trickling water stream below, which is slowly being merged with the sweat dripping off her forehead. Dangerously close to the edge of the bridge in a strange sense, the risk of falling feels good. A hell of a lot more thrilling than it has been for her. She rips off the suffocating headscarf first and watches it make it's way down. The exact destination below is unknown, which is oddly mesmerizing.

She had fucked up. Really fucked up. Her best asset she had turned on her in an unsuspecting instant and was fucking up everything she worked for. With her life and job now at stake, why not just end it all now?

Next she tosses the tunic. It's a little heavier and reaches the shallow water quicker. It also allows the pool of accumulated sweat on her back to somehow evaporate, even sending a much needed chill down her spine

The water looks better by the second and all she can think about for the time being was going right on ahead and leaping in. It would be quick, probably even painless, but just maybe that water could be the last thing she ever felt. _No don't._ She thinks.

Finally he spots her. Driving around slowly for an hour with no a/c has really gotten to him and at this point, he's pissed off. He given her so much shit, but is sick to see that she is practically dangling over the bridge. That fucking water is shallow and there's no way she'd make it if she fell.

He's not sure whether or not to call her name or just go up behind her and pull her off the ledge. Coming from behind seemed too risky and she might just fall so he calls her name.

"Carrie!"

She's not surprised at all to see him, but very much wishes that he would just go the fuck away. He gets not a single form of acknowledgement. Knowing that she is aware he is there, he begins with a harsher approach.

"Carrie what the fuck are you doing?"

"Go away Quinn! I mean it!" She screams.

"What you just going to do it? You going to jump!?" He says irritated while wiping the sweat off of his forehead.

She tightens her grip on the ledge, but doesn't respond right away.

"Maybe... I'm just going swimming! Go away!"

Quinn bites his top lip.

"Carrie I know you're upset, but you don't want to die. I know you don't."

"Maybe I do!"

He's slowly inching his way over as he continues.

"It's just the heat! It's getting to you! Come on we'll go for a drive and cool off," he tries to convince.

She turns to him now in tears.

"I am just fine. Please! I'm fine! I'm fine! I'm fine! I just want to swim!"

He's right next to her and reaches out his hand.

"Okay. Okay. We can do that. We can swim. But not here!"

Carrie is now bawling and still not grabbing his hand.

"Why did you have to come here!? Don't act like anyone would have missed me!"

"That's not true Carrie and you know it! I care. A lot of people care!"

"You're just saying that so I'll get down!"

"Carrie you know who you have to live for," he says delivering an emotional sting.

She suddenly slips and is now teetering over the edge, but Quinn catches her by the legs. He doesn't pull her up immediately and allows her to take in what is below her.

Fear emerges throughout her entire body indicated by the tears and sweat that have since increased. Her eyes are wide open secretly asking to make it stop, but still doesn't move an inch. Dying was never the answer which became much more clear at this moment.

"I'm going to pull you up now," he assures her. Quinn lifts her up slowly and carefully with little effort. He can't tell if she is shocked or embarrassed, but it's probably a little bit of both.

There's a narrow trail at the end of the bridge and he grabs her hand and takes her with him to cool down. Her shirt had landed on a jagged rock which was in reach for him to scoop it up. While he retrieves it, she sits on the shore thinking about what had just happened.

"I wasn't going to do it you know," she says almost mocking the situation while he rings out her shirt.

He looks up at her for a moment and then back down at the shirt and uses every muscle in his upper body to squeeze the water out over her head. She gasps as the cold water hits her face.

"Don't ever fucking do that again!" He scolds.

She sticks out her foot and trips him to the ground as he starts to walk away.

"I just had a rough fucking day Quinn!"

He gets up angered and tightly grabs both sides of her arms, right below her shoulders.

"Yeah well I've had fucking rough days too, but I don't fucking pretend I'm going to kill myself!"

"Quinn let-"

"You're fucked up if you think no one cares! I care!" He finishes while loosening his grip.

She slaps him hard in the face as he lets go.

"Don't fucking touch me like that again!"

He did grab her hard, probably even left bruises.

"Guess I deserved that."

"I'm sorry," she mutters with him barely hearing her, as he is now by the water. "Maybe it is just too fucking hot for me to think?" She finishes.

Quinn takes off his own shirt, soaks it in the water and wraps it around his neck.

"Next time I'll have to shoot you if you're not going to listen," he teases after being relieved by the cold water rushing down his body.

She narrows her eyes at him, but accepts his helping hand to get off the ground.

"That was a one time thing," she says as she gets to her feet. He's silent, but stares at her like he has something to say and she's curious. "What are you thinking about?"

"You," he says without thinking.


	2. The bottle

A/N: So I did indeed continue this story, mostly because it was a fabulous prompt that generated a slew of ideas. This is not the last chapter and there will still be more to come. Thank you to Bookworm, Indigo, Maggie and Guest for your encouragement. This literally starts right after the last one left off.

* * *

"What are you thinking about?"

"You," he says without thinking.

"Oh," she responds slightly flustered.

He's just now realizing what he said and how he said it.

"I should get you home."

"Home?"

"You should sleep Carrie," he tells rather than suggests.

Their relief from the water is slowly decimating as it's evaporating quicker than expected.

"I don't want to go back there... I can't go back there!"

"Why not?"

"I'm afraid!" She admits with Quinn easily identifying the sheer desperation in her voice.

He soaks his shirt again in order to think in this stifling heat.

"What about my place? Will you go there?" He offers bravely.

She sighs.

"Yeah... I'll go."

He saturates her shirt once more before throwing it to her.

"Here put this on."

* * *

As soon as they walk in, he heads straight for the bathroom.

"Do you have a/c in here!?" She asks quickly, but he has already shut the door.

She searches for a thermostat and finds nothing but a small fan and turns it on full blast. It's still not enough. Once again she starts looking for anything that will cool her down. She opens the freezer where there isn't much. Inside is a full tray off ice cubes and an ice cold bottle of vodka that hasn't been broken into yet.

She hears the water start to run and decides to grab the bottle. The icy condensation quickly melts when she grabs it with her hand and again when she places it on her forehead. Soon enough she removes the cap and takes a few sips. The chilled liquor is seeming to be doing the trick just fine. She places the bottle on the end table and heads to the bathroom.

_Knock knock_.

"Uh, whatcha doing Quinn?" She says opening the door.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm taking a cold shower," he answers on the other side of the curtain.

"Oh. Do you have a/c in here?"

"Nope."

"Fuck if I'd known that, I'd just went back to my place," she says before exiting.

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head while enjoying every speckle of cold water contacting his skin. As soon as he's satisfied, he turns the water off and slips a towel around his waste. He enters the living room to see Carrie taking a swig of his prized possession.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm cooling off," she justifies.

He makes his way over to her as she is about to take another drink and snatches it right out of her hand.

"What the fuck Quinn!"

"You know what I had to go through to get that!? I was saving that!" He says and he takes a sip.

"For what?"

"A hot day," he responds calmly enjoying the smooth burn.

"Well it's pretty fucking hot!" She retorts.

"And for someone who didn't try to jump off a bridge today," he adds.

She shakes her head in disbelief.

"I already told you I wasn't going to fucking jump!"

"Was that before or after I showed up?" He asks placing the bottle down.

She ignores him and attempts to take the bottle again, but he grabs it tight when she gets a hand there. She looks him in the eye a moment before answering.

"Before."

He doesn't let go as she again tries to tug it away from him.

"I'm going to go shower," she says now creating a distance.

"Good idea."

"Do... do you have anything I could wear here?"

He removes his eyes from the bottle.

"I'll check."

Quinn puts on a only a pair of boxers and searches through his wardrobe for anything for her to wear. He finds himself eliminating any material that he knew she would hate. The end result is a tee-shirt. A tee-shirt that he's had since he was a teenager and brought it everywhere he went despite never actually wearing it. He also finds a pair of light track pants with a decent drawstring.

He starts to crack open the door to deliver the clothing and can just barely detect her sobbing. It's hardly recognizable, but he knows what he hears. He leaves forgetting to drop off what she had requested, and regrets his questioning in the living room. It's starting to cool down a little with the sun almost set, but he still sinks into the couch with the fan on him. Minutes later he can hear shuffling coming from the bathroom and Carrie calling his name.

"Quinn!?"

"Yeah?" He answers immediately.

"The clothes?" She shouts through the door.

"Oh sorry they're out here!" He shouts back.

She gathers the outfit with only a towel around her without making eye contact, and heads directly back to the bathroom. When she returns he has turned on the radio. She sits next to him and takes a deep breath.

"Can you understand any of this?" He asks breaking the silence.

She nods.

"They said it's expected to rain. Heavy rain."

"When?"

"Soon."

"Oh.. do you want some of this?" He offers some vodka after feeling guilty.

"Yes please," she says as he hands it over.

"Hey you know what you look like right now?" He asks out of the blue.

"What!?" She asks defending herself already.

He points to her her hair.

"A towel head," he expresses attempting to make a joke

"Shut up. Fuck you!" She smiles then pushes him and takes a sip.

That's all he was looking for was one smile. It helped him to know that she could and would crack a smile.

After sipping the bottle a couple more times, he notices that she is deep in thought. He's been around her long enough to know when she's really thinking about something. She finally turns to him and releases her thoughts.

"Am I a bad person Quinn?"

He gets out of his slump responding to her unforeseen question.

"No! Carrie why would you think that?"

She looks straight down as she answers.

"Because... because I think I'm a bad person."

He takes her hand in his and assures her she is wrong.

"You're not Carrie. Don't you ever think that."


	3. Breaking bread

A/N: Part three of this story for the heatwave prompt. I'm only adding one more chapter, then wrapping it up. Let me know what you think. Lilmissfit, glad to see this strikes your interest.

P.s. And for anyone who reads Your star, I should be able to update it by this weekend, as I know plenty of you are waiting after how I left it.

* * *

"You don't have to say that Quinn, I already know I am," she says staring into his glossy gaze.

She pulls her hand away and dries her wet hair with the towel. Quinn takes advantage of the vodka that she set on the coffee table, taking a giant gulp as he does not have anything else for her to say. Her sincere belief of this thought astounded him. Carrie returns the towel to the drying rack in the bathroom, though she returns without wearing the pants he had given her, now only wearing the t-shirt and panties.

His reaction is much unanticipated by both parties. This is exactly why he hating not drinking alone. When he drinks he gets emotional and mushy, sometimes even violent, but it's too late since they've already drank almost half the bottle between the both of them. They're both starting to feel the effects now. They're not drunk, but certainly on the verge and on the way too it.

"What?" She interrupts his prime focus.

"Huh?"

He had imagined her half naked before, but never under these circumstances.

"It's still too fucking hot for them!" She stumbles back onto the sofa.

"Yeah, yeah... you hungry? I'm hungry. I'm going to see what I have." He diverts his attention away from her, but already knows his reaction said it all.

He takes off to the tiny galley kitchen, not even allowing her to respond, taking the bottle with him.

"Hey where you going with that?" She follows him right in.

"I, well we have had enough tonight," he answers placing it back in the freezer.

He's parenting her despite his similar state, but she's allowing it. On a similar level, she agrees that they have had enough, but would prefer to just keep at it until she passes out cold. She's sort of even hoping to get so drunk that she doesn't get up to avoid the hell storm tomorrow when everyone finds out her work went to shit, rather wanting to deal with it all herself.

"I've got bread annnnnnnd bread," he shows her.

"Hmm," she debates. "The whole grain, it's darker."

Quinn mistakes the steak knife for a viable tool and the blade slips off the hard crust, slicing into his finger.

"Fuck," he shouts.

"You okay?"

"I'm good."

"Just let me see it," she insists.

He shows her a hardly visible flesh wound and she laughs.

"Do you just want me to do it Quinn?"

He hands her the knife although weary about it. She starts sweating while sawing through the loaf, but it's not just the heat. It's the memory of her father going right along with it that she has been tucking away since she's gotten back .

"What is it Carrie?" He says after seeing her struggling.

"Here eat!" She says placing the plate of bread in his hands.

She places a single piece of bread on her plate and joins him on the sofa.

"I thought it was going to rain?" He teases her interpretation.

"It better soon, I'm still dying of heat!"

He chews his food slowly before eventually throwing his plans at her.

"I'm uh, leaving in a couple of days," he announces out of the blue.

"Yeah haha me too," she mocks him.

"No Carrie I'm serious, I'll be gone by June 1st."

She sets down her plate and begins to question this ridiculous idea he was entertaining .

"Why?" She begins right on offense.

"Carrie you know I wanted out before and coming here just made everything worse," he explains with no regret.

"Are you saying I made it worse?" She spits furiously arching her brow at him.

He evades her initial question to offer some advice. It was starting to piss him off how much she put I, me, and my into everything.

"I... I think you should leave too. Go home. This place isn't doing you any good."

The alcohol is fueling through her veins telling her that Quinn is aggressively targeting her.

"I can't leave my job Quinn!"

If he wasn't being passive aggressive before he is now.

"But yet you have no problem leaving anything, anywhere, or anyone else," he says while noticing seemingly real fire igniting in her eyes. "I can't take what this place has done to you... to me."

"But it's my job! I help protect people, it's what I do!" She defends herself again.

"Yes, but it's not your life Carrie. I just don't want to see you get yourself hurt anymore. You almost... died today!"

He's clearly not getting through to her as she will not back down.

"If you really cared about me then you would stay! Come on Quinn do you really think I'm worried about some 20 year old kid getting in my way!?"

"Yes!"

"Well, well you're wrong!"

"Well I'm still leaving," he shouts.

Silence fills the air and Quinn continues to eat his food. Carrie is obviously scrambling in her head to find a solution to his decision. She knows she's in danger, but refuses to admit it.

"I'll talk to him tomorrow, straighten this all out. I'm sure it was only a misunderstanding," she does her best to convince Quinn, he ignores her. "I mean all he said was that he was done, finished. He didn't want to play for the wrong team anymore... I think I can change that."

He gets up from his seat after being sick of hearing her bullshit, leaving her alone while he goes to the balcony.

"Really you're just going to walk away," she says after following him. "Why do you even have a balcony anyways?"

"I like to be able to see everything," he responds dully.

She takes a deep breath, completely stressed that he won't budge.

"Quinn you're the only one I trust!"

"That's too bad I guess."

"What can I do to change your mind?" She asks in newly developed sweet tone while caressing his lower back.

Quinn glances back for a moment at her hand, slightly aroused. His altered mind is confusing him and he's not sure if he wants to strangle her for her continued pestering or if he wants fuck her right there on the railing. Either way he knew it would shut her up.

"Carrie!?"

"Quinn. Please!" She begs while practically rubbing his back. He restrains himself from his thoughts and stands his ground.

"Nothing," he delivers point blank.

She removes her hand from his body, looking down at the ground below. The rain finally makes an appearance, not even sneaking up slowly, but coming full blast. Without asking for permission he whisks her by the hand, quickly bringing her inside.

His whole mind feels clearer with the temperature dropping at a nice steady rate, no longer struggling to feel comfortable. He can see it in her as well, but knows that the heat was never her biggest problem. The thought of her, or even them, doing something stupid though was still very much apparent, forcing him to take action.

"It's late. I think I'm going to sleep," he tells her.

"Oh, uh yeah me too," she gives him the fakest smile he'd seen from her yet.

"You know if you don't want to be alone, if you're still... well you can sleep in my room," he offers, struggling to get his words out.

"No no. Couch is good," she assures him.

"Okay then. Goodnight," he says awkwardly leaving her there.

The second he enters the bedroom, the rain that was recently pounding against the building has suddenly stopped. After lying in bed for an hour, he could feel the temperature gradually rising again. No amount of rain was capable of stopping the lingering heat that kept creeping up on them at the worst time possible. It was keeping her awake too. As he is pretending to be asleep, he catches her sneaking into his bed. She's not afraid of him leaving, she's petrified.


	4. Sunburn

A/N: So I'm going to stop making deadlines for my writing lol. It will just be complete when it says complete.

Thanks a lot Indigo for the encouragement. I'll start my Fax(that's what I'm calling them now) story soon.

* * *

"Quinn! Quinn where are you?" Carrie screams bursting into his apartment.

She shouts his name over and over and searches, but it's just her and her echo.

She has stopped by her place to get something else to wear to tackle the heat, really wanting him to know she's not afraid anymore. He'll feel differently and will change his mind about leaving to fulfill the mission. Unless he hasn't already changed it having pulled off what he did today. She's willing to wait for him anyways after he seems to be no where. There was no way he was going to leave.

The search for the vodka is annoying. Why would he take it out of the freezer? Unwinding after a rather good day, she's up to hit the bottle early. A well deserved celebration or whatever it is. On top of that, it's only a few degrees cooler than it had been the day before. She 's brought her wine too, but the vodka sounds better at this point to in order get drunk faster.

Behind the couch is where she finally spots it and it's still as full as how it was left the night before, half empty. She drops 2 single ice cubes in the half full tumbler glass and quickly guzzles it down with her lithium. Before it sets in, paranoia begins to erupt when he doesn't show. Has he already left?

After a couple hours she convinces herself that he is gone and that his last task was his way of leaving her with an advantage. Carrie wishes that the vodka would just do it's job after 5 glasses and keep her mind from wandering as it had the night before. The alcohol has just been recently starting to take less and less affect due to the countless nights of indulging in the necessary beverage, and she was quickly building a staggering tolerance. As her mind begins to drift into the unwanted territory that she had for so long ignored and she begins to sweat , he enters the apartment.

"What are you doing here Carrie?" He asks her calmly, knowing why she was.

"I thought you left!" She shouts rises from the sofa.

"I already told you I'm leaving tomorrow," he says maintaining his tone. "Have you been drinking?"

He immediately begins to remove layers and neatly stacks them in a pile near the door, which does nothing to prove that he'll stay.

"Quinn what you did today...," she changes her frantic voice.

"What?"

"He... he changed his mind. He's back on board. YOU did this Quinn. YOU made this happen," she praises him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he resumes packing.

She sets down her glass, adamant about making him reveal the truth. Placing her hand on the bag he is lifting, she soon begins to irritate him.

"Quinn he trusts you. I don't know why he listens to you, but he does. I need you to help me... please."

He ignores her pleading and flashes his plane ticket. Huffing and figuring out what to say, she tries her best not to look agitated.

"We almost have our guy Quinn... Quinn? What do you even plan on doing back there?"

"By back there, you mean home?" He says only answering her last question.

She rolls her eyes.

"Why do you care about my plans? The only plan I have is to get away from here and be a real person." He says.

"Be a real person?" She says utterly confused. "A real person doesn't just quit their job!"

He wants to say so many things to this, but won't let himself. In fact despite the past 24 hours she's acted more human now than she has the past few months.

"Do whatever you want Carrie," he's now annoyed.

She pulls his face away from his task forcing him to stop packing.

"What I want is to finish what I started. Do my job. We are not fucking finished!"

With a sight bit of force, he pulls her hand off of his face and grabs on tightly while he speaks.

"YOU are not finished! Do it without me," he makes clear.

His grip is strong, but loose enough to where she can release from it. She bitterly leaves his side to grab another drink and returns with one for him.

"What the fuck is that?" He eyes up the drink.

She decides alcohol might help.

"Well I'd rather not drink alone, since you're here and all," she responds staring at the ceiling.

"I don't want it. Thanks."

Her last ditch efforts are accomplishing nothing and she snaps.

"Jesus fucking Christ Quinn you're really fucking leaving! How fucked up is that!?"

"Not as fucked up as you leaving your daughter," he snaps back.

Her hand hits his face with much more force than the playful slap the last time. He knew he hit his first target and he's not finished yet, but has no idea what it will render. It's not the most conventional way to say 'I love you and I can't see you like this, so I'm going to say all these things to you and leave you because I can't say how I really feel', but it's a start.

"Fuck you! Who the fuck are you to say that to me!"

"Do you tell yourself that sending money is the best thing you can do for her!? Or do you just not give a fuck that she's basically an orphan," he continues on point.

He downs the drink she set in front of him in an instant, while watching her lip and chin begin to quiver.

"Oh and... and you treat that boy like he's already dead, even after you fucked him. How the fuck do you expect him to trust you? In fact you treat everyone like they're already gone! Does that make it easier for you? Not caring if he dies?"

"Quinn! Fucking don't!" she shrieks wanting him to stop right now.

"And Saul? Why the fuck can't he help you? Oh maybe because you don't want to have to tell everybody how you've really been 'maintaining' your assets. I don't want that shit on me."

"Goddamnit stop it!" She lunges at him again smacking him even harder. He's not lying and it sounds ugly. Ugly coming from someone else out loud because it is her reality.

This time he's had enough of it and when she turns around, he smacks her where he can reach her hitting her right in the ass. Even more furious, she immediately turns around to scold him.

"Did you just fucking spank me?"

He can't believe he even did it, but he was getting sick of her hitting him for saying what he thinks no matter how aggressive it was, it's all true. Something in the way she asks him though, makes him smirk for a second before frowning again.

"Yeah, I did," he says moving towards her.

Carrie pushes past him and immediately leaves the apartment in tears, which begin to form before she even walks out the door. His words sting like a fucking sunburn, just like the one forming on her face as she lights a cigarette outside. She's realizing there's a reason why he did it though. She knows deep down that Quinn actually gives a fuck about her which is exactly why she needs him around to survive.

As she takes the final few drags of her cigarette, it occurs to that her game is not over. Although her advances were denied the previous night, she's still not willing to give up this soon. Quinn was just as much of an asset as her actual assets and she refuses to see him leave. The way she was doing it was just all wrong. With a new found confidence, she heads back upstairs.

He reluctantly lets her in just waiting for another argument, but he knows it's mostly the booze. He'd rather her sober up in his company. For some reason though, her attitude has changed drastically.

"I'm sorry," she states.

"Don't be sorry to me."

She paces for a moment before revealing her 'plans' to him.

"Fine you win Quinn. I'll leave!"

"Bullshit!" He responds unaware to her motives.

"I'm not. I just booked a ticket when I was outside," she assures him while grabbing his hand playfully.

His pout turns into a smile, but he quickly remembers who he's dealing with.

"Carrie I don't-"

He is stopped in his tracks with her hand pushing on his chest, backing him right up into the chair behind him. She gracefully steadies her palms on his shoulders and and bends down to meet her lips with his to test the waters. Quinn's not resisting either and invites her onto his lap with his guiding hands. At this point he can't help himself only finding that he wants more.


	5. Inferno

A/N: Been a long time since I updated this. Not exactly canon, but just something that popped into my head. Hopefully I can update soon with my hectic work schedule ahead.

Thanks a lot indigo for your feedback! It means a lot! Let me know what you all think.

* * *

As she wakes and begins to lift her head, the heaviness and throbbing headache make her rethink that decision and she lays right back down. She's lacking hydration due to her liquid diet and with her tongue scrapping the roof of her mouth, she longs for some water. When she can't take it anymore, she opens her eyes again to find any trace of her clothing that may or may not be scattered on the floor.

She notices on the nightstand there's a full glass of water, something Quinn probably left for her. He had so far been a tremendous help, but she can't help but think that she just might regret what they had done. Her hands are shaking when she reaches for it and the ice is painful as it comes in contact with her teeth. Slightly replenished, she begins to reminisce about her night with Quinn.

Carrie can't even remember why she'd agreed to this in the first place, but does realize that she is with the only person she can trust. It was a smart move, but it wasn't fair because she really does feel for Quinn. She's just not sure exactly what. He's her friend really is what he is. Someone who looks out for her and she knows she can count on him and he'll stay, even if it's for just enough time to catch her guy. He's not just a friend, but her best and only real friend she's ever had.

After chugging the entire glass of water, she finally gets the energy to sit up. She spots her clothes at the end of the bed, scattered everywhere, hurrying to put them on in case Quinn walked in. Something isn't right though. All of the drawers are open and empty.

_Fuck!_

She quickly leaves the bedroom to find him leaving, already halfway out the door.

"Quinn!" She shouts.

"Fuck," he says knowing he's caught, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"You're leaving?" She shakes her head in confusion.

He turns around slowly, starring into her pupils that he can see are still full of despair and bitterness.

"Carrie I have to go," he says almost choking on his own words.

"Well, well wait. I have to get my stuff," she spits out in a panic. "But first we just need to do one thing before we leave."

He grabs her arm as she tries to rush past him.

"Carrie you're not coming with me, I know that. And... and I'm not staying here." He says trying not to resent his own words.

She darts her eyes back and forth as she glares at him again, holding in the dry tears.

"Ye- yes I am. I just need to. I just... have to do something first," she proclaims.

"Bye Carrie," he releases from his mind with purpose.

As he walks away her anger grows and she's extremely curious about his motives.

"Wait!" She screams and catches up with him, forcing him to turn around. "If you're just going to fucking leave then why'd you agree to sleep with me to begin with!?" She adds in a rage.

"Does it even matter?!" He says now tormented and upset that he can't just be on his way. He didn't want any regrets and it was now becoming impossible.

"Yeah I really want to know!"

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Because you didn't have to!"

He tries to hold back, but it comes out plain and simple.

"Because I fucking love you!" He blurts out, his eyes now wider than hers.

There it was, raw and out in the open. He didn't want it to happen this way, but he can't take it back now. She's as speechless as he'd imagined, but he takes the opportunity to bounce and get out there for good. He can't stay to see what will happen. They can no longer be one another's crutch. It was slowly, but surely killing them both.

* * *

Another thing to be guilty about was not what she was here for. Although loneliness is her cell, she's angry and pissed that he'd just left like that. Deep down she knew that's how he'd felt, but now it's real and exposed. The pain from the scratches he'd left on her back, after digging into her sunburn, could now be felt. Almost like a distraction from what had just happened, but it's not. It's not the first time she'd been burned and in reality, probably not the last.

She tries to forget about Quinn when she makes her way towards her apartment, drowning out the past couple of days in her head. There is still a job to be done and she's the only one who can get it done.

The persistent heat was not going to get in the way today. Today was going to be the day where she'd make the lives of terrorists in Pakistan lives' hell. It's the only thing to hold onto. No matter what she or her team may suffer, full throttle could be her only gear. It has to be.

This idea becomes depleted when she finds herself crying all alone on her bedroom floor. She can now truly feel everything that was happening. The anger isn't there and if it even is, it only feels like guilt. The guilt was something that had started when she attended her father's funeral from a hundred yards away a couple weeks back. No one even knew she was there. It's now starting to eat her alive and she can't even stand being in her own skin knowing what she had done.

* * *

Quinn exits the building and waves down his driver . He puts the first bag on the seat and begins to load the second until he hears an all too familiar noise. He instinctively jumps as the blast ignites an inferno just 50 feet away from him and he breaks a sweat in an instant. The Rpg rocket just barely missed his radius, although he finds himself checking to see if he's still in one piece automatically. Without thinking he rushes over to his former colleague and drags him to safety.

Soon after a mob is storming through the dismantled gate, a wall that was suppose to protect them. It had seemed superficial to begin with, which is now confirmed. Quinn rushes with the only known victim to the armory ready to defend.

* * *

Carrie hears the commotion and dries her flooded eyes, and immediately diverts her full attention to what is happening. The window around the corner of her hallway will give her a proper view and she rushes towards it as quickly as possible, however it's no longer a window. Heat rushes through the space which is now just a hole in the building. The view on the other side is vile, too much to take and she can't believe what is happening. Now rushing in the other direction to find someone, anyone, she's snatched by the enemy.

Struggling to escape, she begins to loose consciousness after a blow to the head.


	6. Sweating bullets

A/n: So I started this in July, so I'm just now adding some of the character's names. Quite a deviation from how the season has progressed, but this chapter is really intense. Heatwave still exists too. Enjoy :)

* * *

Quinn reaches for his favorite weapon, an AR-15, and rushes back to join the other soldiers. It's an insane scene right before his eyes even for him. Throughout all the raids and missions he's ever operated through, this was by far the dirtiest scheme he's witnessed. As he flips on the red dot site, everything suddenly becomes clear.

The targets go down one by one like dominoes. His precision sharper than the soldiers beside him. The rush of blood now apparent. He's in his element in a time of need, slaying those who think they can get in.

* * *

The pain she can feel is almost surreal. It takes a few moments to remember exactly where she is and panic sets in, although she refuses to show it.

"You're awake," a voice hisses. "Now we go."

"Wha-," Carrie manages to answer, hardly.

"You will come with me, we'll go now."

"Go? Go where?"

"Why to Kabul of course," Tasneem tells her.

"Carrie I didn't mean for any of this to happen to you," Aayan confesses.

"Quiet!" Tasneem demands.

"No! Why are we doing this!? I did not agree to this!"

"I said shut up!"

"This is ridiculous!"

Tasneem snaps her figures and the others act. Carrie watches as they slash his throat in front of her, watching him slowly bleed out.

"Aayan!" Carrie shrieks, her pupils enraged as she attacks Tasneem.

Tasneem reciprocates by striking her in the face, hard enough to put her back on the ground. Her face is now on fire as she hit her exactly where the sun had the past couple of days, though she still resists showing any signs of being affected by the blow.

Carrie can't help but look horrified at the sight of the dead body, but quickly puts herself back together while hiding her eyes.

"When are we going?" Carrie asks bitterly.

"We go now."

"You'll never get me out of here... if that's your plan," Carrie assures her while exposing her glare.

"Funny you say that."

Tasneem grabs her by the back of the hair making her scream. She pulls out her pistol pointing it directly at Carrie's head and demands movement. Carrie realizes that she must move, but doubts that she will get to far. Too many people in the way.

"Let's go!"

Carrie complies for the time being, but insists that they stop at her apartment first.

"Please I need to get something first! I can't leave without it!" She pleads.

Tasneem stops in her tracks, examining her proposal.

She turns to Carrie with an answer, "Do you really think you're going to be alive long enough to use what you need?"

"Positive," Carrie replies with piercing eyes.

"If that will get your feet moving, then I see no reason why I can't honor that."

When they enter Carrie attempts to momentarily break free, though not getting her wish.

"Go with her," Tasneem instructs to her guards.

She takes the time that Carrie is gone to snoop around, luckily locating something that she'd never seen. Carrie returns seconds later, medication in hand.

"I see you grabbed your only friend," Tasneem remarks. "Hand them over!"

"Well unless you want me going manic on you, I suggest you let me keep them," Carrie barks.

"Funny that that's the only thing you wanted from here."

"What?"

"I mean it just ensures the fact that no one will save you," Tasneem continues.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Tasneem reveals the picture that she had swiped from her counter of her and her daughter.

"The fact that you're so self-absorbed that you didn't even think to take this."

Carrie takes a lunge at her, but is wrestled back immediately by the body guards.

"Give it to me!" Carrie demands. Tasneem only confirms her belief that the child is Carrie's and laughs in her face.

"You silly, selfish girl. You came here to Islamabad and just fucked my whole plan when you could have just left it be and stayed home. And now you will pay for that. And now... now I know that no one cares enough about you to save you, because you don't care about anyone BUT you."

She succeeded and it's damaging. The tears aren't even drops anymore, but pools accumulating below her eyes.

"You... don't... fucking know me," she manages to slip out.

"Oh, but I do. You're just a stupid white bitch who thinks she can save the world, when in reality she cannot even control herself," Tasneem says with a nasty smirk. "We go now. Keep your pills, but I will keep this."

Carrie spits on her and the guards now have their work cut out for them while restraining her. They have a hard time holding on, but don't let go. With a gun again to her head and the hangover, heat and exhaustion catching up with her, she's forced with them.

* * *

It's been quite sometime now, and Quinn had almost forgotten where he was, who was there, and why he'd stayed to begin with. His mind is racing trying to process the possibility of who could be dead. He has no way of knowing if he stays.

_Where is she?_ He thinks. Now the only thing he can think of.

He sprays the remainder of his clip while running to safety inside, ditches the machine gun and pulls out his pistol. The lobby is vacant as far as he can see. Unbeknownst to him, that is far from the truth.

The first sign of the Taliban appears in the stairwell as Quinn makes his way towards headquarters.

"Shit!" He mutters.

Slithering quietly up the steps, the sounds echoing from the everlasting gunfire muffles his already barely audible footsteps. His grip now around the man's neck is no challenge and he breaks it like a lego block in the middle of a linear tower, quietly releasing his lifeless body to the floor. When he reaches the work quarters, he allows his silent pistol to take down the entire fleet of intruders.

A few of his co-workers have perished and he searches each body in desperation, hoping that none of them are her. Those still alive are scared hostages thanking him for saving their lives.

"Where's Carrie have you seen her!?" He shouts.

They deny her presence, yet he continues to ask.

"She's not here Peter," they tell him again.

"Fuck! Fuck!" He screams as he runs his bloodied hand through his locks.

He looks deranged at this point helplessly planning his next move. She must still be in the living quarters given that she was not here. He orders the others to pick up the weapons that the fallen had dropped when they were killed, regardless of their combat abilities, to fight in what now is a full blown war.

They follow him to the lobby and instead of heading back outside, he turns into the direction of their apartments. The sound of a woman's voice makes him stop for a second, then he realizes it's not her. It's not familiar though, so he waits behind the adjacent wall, ready for anything.

The four are revealed and his pulse is elevated. Mind in overdrive. Anger at a max. Carrie is walking next to Tasneem, not appearing to be captive which confuses Quinn. He knew she would take her own life before turning on American, but he doesn't understand why Carrie wasn't fighting them.

From the dark vantage point, he takes out the two unsuspecting bodyguards who failed to notice his hiding spot. As Tasneem hears them fall to the ground, she lifts her gun to Carrie's head and turns around to face her adversary.

"Put it down now or I'll put one in her fucked up brain now!" She tells him.

"Don't fucking do it Quinn! She's gonna-"

"Shut up," Tasneem shouts, forcefully pushing the barrel into Carrie's temple.

"Carrie I'm putting the gun down now," Quinn tells her, just now realizing that he's sweating.

"Quinn No!"

He slowly lowers the gun to the ground along with the rest of his body, kneeling in the process. Tasneem smiles as she witnesses foolishness before her. She hadn't anticipated anyone to intervene, but it's obvious that no one is willing to fight for her.

Quinn's hand is almost completely on the ground now. As Carrie hears the metal begin to touch the floor, she shuts her eyes in anticipation for their imminent executions. He's now carefully sliding it, prompting Tasneem to yell.

"I will shoot her! Let it go!"

Quinn's experience overpowers and a seemingly aimless shot from the floor penetrates right into her skull. The panic that was suppose to disappear hasn't because his gun isn't the only one that he hears goes off.


	7. Still here

The thuds in his chest begin thrashing louder than he can control. He wants it to stop the noise, so that he can hear hers too as he gets closer. Blood is everywhere not knowing exactly whose it is. With an accumulation around her head, he lifts her up to inspect bullet wound. The atmosphere is so humid, he can barley grip her head. He screams at himself in knowing that he could have stopped this somehow, resenting his actions. "Aghhhh fuck! Fuck!"

When he finally gets a decent grip, he notices where the bullet had really hit and that her head had been bleeding from the fall. He presses his hand tight on her lower back, slowing the flow, lifts her up and rushes towards the embassy hospital. Quinn can hardly feel her breath on his neck, but knows she's still with him.

The hospital has it's own entrance, untouched to his knowledge being so secluded. His bloody banging on the door however, does nothing but frighten the staff who are not prepared for such mayhem. One inexperienced nurse in training is brave enough to approach the door smeared in blood, greeting Quinn's desperate eyes. She's seen his face and hers before and opens the door against protocol. The staff around them dismiss the inaccuracy and immediately begin to question Quinn about Carrie, while the other half ask about what's going on.  
He's scattered when answering them, pacing and running his fingers through his head.

"She got shot... there's a breach... we didn't train for this... help her... she's breathing... there will be more people coming in."

"Quinn right? Can I call you that?" One of the nurses who's been eyeing him up in recent weeks asks.

"Yeah, yeah. what!" He says frantically.

"Okay Quinn, I'm going to need you to back away from her so we can work on her," she says as if she's speaking to a child.

"What? Back what?"

"You can sit in there and wait," she points. "We have showers and beds there."

"I can't sit!' He backs away slowly. "I can't fucking sit!"

"Okay?" The nurse says sensing the panic and anger simultaneously echoing through his voice.

"I have to get out there! I have to go get more people," he proclaims. He bursts through the entrance demanding to take back control.

After dropping his weapon, he returns the the armory to acquire a new weapon. His emotions are getting to him and he can't think straight. The guilt in his actions still with him.

"How many of these fuckers are left?" He asks a Marine while choosing his weapon.

"They're going down quick, but still no sign of Haqqani."

_Haqqani? That's right this was fucking Haqqani!_

His search is soon after. Thinking about where he could be in exhausting his already worn mind. He only finds the mental energy knowing that he was responsible for hurting Carrie. To make a point perhaps, but what?

Fate is kind to him when he spots him fleeing from the work quarters. Running away like an animal being hunted. He had to know someone would come for him. His pace however weakened by his illness, still not entirely known to Quinn.

The struggle is almost non-existant while in Quinn's forceful clutch. He can feel himself crush a few of Haqqani's ribs with a forceful jab to the abdomen. Quinn's weapon would not be needed, as his hands are squeezing the life out of him taking his hands to his throat. Just before his threshold for consiousness is reached, Quinn takes a second to interrogate him

"What the fuck are you gaining from this? What were you expecting from this?"

Haqqani still catching his breath, composes himself enough to speak."What do I want? Nothing."

"This is what this is about right? For you to take control?" Quinn spits.

"Me? This isn't about me," he utters. "I'm going to die soon. I don't give a fuck about me!"

"You what!?"

"This is for my children and their children. To let them know that it's never to late to fight for a worthy cause," he finishes now out of breath.

"A fucking worthy cause?"

"To let America know we are sick of their crimes. This won't end when I'm gone you know."

Quinn releases him, sits back and puts his head in his hands. "You're wrong," Quinn shouts.

"And why do you say that?" The fragile man says, halfway sitting up.

"Because I won't let that happen... and neither will... will..." he struggles to continue.

"Carrie? Is that what you are going to say? She is on her way to Kabul. There she will be publically executed for the world to see. We will let American know how unwelcome they really are. One Station chief at a time."

Quinn finds his footing again hovering dangerously over Haqqani, knife in hand.

"Are you going to kill me?" Haqqani asks pretending not to be afraid of him.

"Yes!"

"You'll just be doing me a favor."

"That's not exactly what's gong to happen."

Quinn swiftly kneels and Haqqani attempts to fight him, not making any progress. He plunges the knife straight into Haqqani's gut, ensuring a slow, agonizing death. Quinn savors his groaning knowing all the misery he has caused for them, especially Carrie.

* * *

It's a full week of waiting before she finally opens her eyes. He smiles not caring how she reacts, but is happy to see when she sees him that she's smiling back. She flutters her eyes a bit more and inspects the IV and heart rate monitor. It's apparent that she doesn't remember what happened. The silence lingers for a few moments until he breaks the ice.

"How... how are you feeling?" he asks carefully.

"Like I'm on a lot of drugs."

His grins widens, "you are."

"What happened to me?"

"You got shot."

"I figured. Jesus! The last thing i remember Tasneem was... about to shot you. What the fuck happened Quinn?"

His look says it all.

"Wait why are we still here?"

"They're gone Carrie."

"All of them!?"

"All of them."

"Everyone's okay?" She asks cautiously.

"Everyone's fine."

She smiles.

"Your sister called. She heard about the attack. wanted to know if you were okay."

She attempts to turn as he says this, not able to being propped to her side.

"Oh."

"She's worried about you," he continues.

"I know."

"So am I," he gulps, worried for what was coming.

"Don't be Quinn. I'm fine. And I'll call my sister, I will."

"Yeah," he stands and searches out the window looking for anything.

The rattling and fumbling behind him prepares him, only partially. But he wanted to be the one there. He listens as the bars on the bed are being forced and recognizes the heavy breathing that he had done the week before, but worse.

"Quinn... Quinn!' She cries.

He thought he was ready, but realizes he's not.

"Jesus Quinn is the fucking bandage on my head that fucking bad to stare at. Fucking look at me! Quinn!"

"Hey, hey. What's going on in here?" The nurse says walking in. "Ms. Mathison you need to stay in bed. If you need assistance one of us will come help you."

"Come help me? What the fuck do you mean come help me? The only fucking problem is that I can't get the fuck out of bed. What the fuck did you numb me with!?"

Quinn faces them ready to intervene.

"She doesn't know yet," he stops the nurse.

"Quinn... Quinn please just telling what the fuck is going on!? Please," she begs.

"Carrie... the bullet hit part of your spine."


	8. Boiling point

A/N: Depressing for sure. I've got more for this one. Thanks to everyone that's been keeping up. Really appreciate the feedback :)

* * *

It's a sizzling summer day in D.C. Children are outside taking advantage of their parents' lawn sprinklers, running through them like their lives depend on it. Josie and Ruby sprinting laps through their own sprinkler without a care in the world while Maggie and Franny watch with their beach hats. Carrie can't help but look out the window, wishing it was herself booking it down the street. Not much to do these days beside that, other than relay the doctors words in her head. "Swelling on your spinal cord, nothing yet, long road ahead, we're not sure, take off work and you're lucky."

She thinks of that last one the most, you're lucky. She doesn't think so. The one thing that can completely take her away from her work, immobilization had only become her real nightmare. Being confined was never a wonder or thought. It's suffocating.

It's not what's killing her though. She's deathly thin from self starvation, mainly living on a diet of cold whiskey and vegetable broth. Maggie fearing everyday that she'll find her dead, searching the room constantly for anything sharp. She hasn't even asked to hold Franny, or even see her for that matter, making Maggie sick. Carrie won't even look at her if Maggie brings her in the room, claiming that she doesn't want to see her this way.

* * *

It's late now dark and she's freezing. Draping her legs again in an over sized blanket, unable to look at them. Parts of her that she's unable to fathom, their uselessness haunting her. Remembering that running was her best tactic. The only time she must do so is to use the bathroom and shower. Going a week between bathing smelling of booze and sweat just to avoid herself. Her sister increasingly becoming overbearing in the past few days about it. When the hot water begins its flow, it's the only time she allows herself to cry in this horrid life she's allowing herself to sustain. Any other time the energy is not there.

Refusing any "help" from Maggie, she keeps the door locked, especially when in the shower, no matter how long it takes. Not even allowing her own sister to offer assistance. Today she allows her weekly routine, soaking up the scalding bath water, just to feel where she can.

* * *

"Carrie," he speaks softly.

She ignores Quinn as if no one is there.

He steps closer when she rolls out of the bathroom, forcing a mutal gaze. With no other acknowledgement he looms as she stares out the boring, dark outdoors at the nothingness.

"Carrie please..." He tries his best.

Quinn watches behind him as her nieces run to their bedrooms for the night.

"Look, just look at me please. I want to see your face. Please!"

She reveals the madness she carries with her everyday now, Quinn not prepared.

"What now you want to look at me!? What now!? Because you fucking feel bad for me!?" she screams with intensity.

Quinn can't form words, disappointed in his lack of support he can't find. He's only staring at her face with the guilt he still feels.

"Your sister is worried about you... look I brought you some food."

"I don't fucking want it! Can you please just fucking go. I don't want you here! I don't fucking want anyone here! I don't even know why you're here."

"I want to stay. I want to see you."

"No you don't! Did you not fucking hear me!? Get the fuck out!"

Quinn lowers his head in defeat, clearly fazed at is own helplessness. He wonders about what she is thinking everyday, amazed that she's still going. One way or another though, he knows if she keeps living this way her bitterness will surely be the death of her.

"I'm going to leave this here okay," he places the takeout on the dresser.

He feels selfish for giving up so easily, but absolutely has no idea how to get to her. Not even sure if anyone can.

Carrie doesn't say anything as he leaves, her anxiety level dropping as she hears the door shut. Finally solitary moments again to herself. Saul had attempted the same with similar results. She doesn't see a reason for going on, just living in that room for the rest of her life, useless to the world, to herself.

* * *

_Knock, knock._

"Quinn I told you to fu-," Carrie turns to see Maggie grabbing the food. she ignores her sensing again how much of a burden she is without asking.

"Carrie I know I've said things in the past," Maggie begins while lingering in the doorway, "but you need to eat if you want to get better. If you ever want to visit dad... I don't want to have to put you next to him... Not now. "

Carrie listens to every word, knowing damn well it was only matter of time when she was going to give up. She wants to, they will be better off without her.

Maggie waits for anything, although not expecting a word given how the past few weeks have been exchanging no more than a couple dozen words. She's even begun filling out all the legal documentation for custody of the baby, forgetting why she hadn't before.

"I came you know," Carrie lets out just as Maggie begins to walk away.

Maggie stops, back still turned hoping she'll continue.

"I lied. I went to the funeral. I was in the south lot," Carrie admits.

"Oh?"

"I saw all of you there and I just couldn't do it you know," Carrie continues as the first known tear rolls down her cheek, still not looking at her sister.

"I tried, I tried, but I couldn't. I'm a fucking shitty person and I deserve this."

The crying becomes hysterical and when Maggie attempts to counsel her, but she puts up her defenses.

"Carrie-"

"Maggie don't. I just want to sleep please. I promise I'll leave you all alone tomorrow and you'll never have to see me again I mean it."

"Carrie stop that! You know that's not true. That's not what anyone wants."

Finally confidence arrives, she's ready to look at her.

"I don't deserve to have you guys!"

Maggie had never heard this reason and realizes how alone Carrie really is. Her beliefs put into words as she has never put them before. I makes sense why Carrie is the way she is even before her injury had caused the damage it had. She knew her sister had boundaries, but never realized it was her way of life. Her mechanisms now in light.

"I'll see you in the morning Carrie," Maggie chokes.

* * *

She's heard it before, but it sound is a little different now. The combination of wailing and periodic whimpers, begging for attention. She rubs her eyes convincing herself that this isn't really happening. That baby, her own child, sitting alone of the floor feet away from her favorite toy that has found it's way across the room, isn't really there.

Carrie shuts her eyes again imagining a virtual reality where it really isn't real and she's overseas hunting down number 3 on her list, not thinking about anything other than that. Taking them down, celebrating with her team afterwards. It doesn't work when her instincts that she didn't know she had kick in a few minutes in. She can't stop herself, not knowing why. She can't even feel the chronic headache or mental pain she has when she bends down from the chair to pick the child up and the crying spell ends. It just happens. And strangely, it seems to feel better after all of the negative interactions they have had and she finds Franny becoming calmer by the second, soothed by her.

Maggie utilizes the crack in the door just enough to make sure Franny is okay, wondering if this is the best way start. So far so good.


	9. Watered down

A/n: ah sorry about the delay. Probably updating the star before this one next, but here's something.

* * *

His eyes are glazed, vision shattered to himself. Nothing seems clear anymore. The drink now melted to the point of tasting exactly like water. Fumbling to even attempt to take a sip. When it smashes on the tile, his rage is only fueled. His skin glistening, perspiring without him even noticing.

"Fucking fuck."

His fist slams on the counter so hard that it draws blood.

"Hey buddy take it easy!" The bartender says.

_Take it fucking easy?_

Quinn's mind divert to a deadly scenario where his hands are wrapped around his neck choking the life out of this guy. If only he could get up. The smooth Vodka had done him in, trying to beat one of the hottest weeks on record. One more fucking meeting in the morning and he was gone for good. He swears if they bring her up again though, his ass will gladly be in prison for killing the fucker that did.

One patron, willing to stop the uncomfortable stares Quinn and the bartender are giving, begins gathering the shattered glass.

"Here let me help you with that," her voice rings of pure nature, one that he wasn't use to hearing.

"But you'll cut yourself," Quinn fails to realize how unflattering he really sound.

"Um..." She continues to collect the glass despite his comment.

He begins to help her, with little accomplished.

"Fine if you're going to do it then I'll just fucking leave!"

His feet drag on the sidewalk, stumbling and trying to stay on his feet. He'd do anything to go back in time and stop himself from leaving her to begin with. It's too late now seeing that she never wants him in her sights again and he's quite sure that the next time he'll see her is a distance away at her own funeral.

* * *

Seven days go by rather quickly. Maggie hears the same thing everyday from the nanny that by noon, just in time for lunch, she hears Franny crying in the room alone and the bathroom door is locked. It's still something though and they spend 9 to 12 every day together like clockwork.  
Maggie wonders if it's just that fact that Carrie still won't leave that damn room for anything.  
Eventually they both knew that it had to happen.

She wakes later than usually seeing 10:11 on the clock. It's quiet, more like dead silent. Nobody's there at all. There's no food or coffee either and for once she's hungry. It's safe to leave, a perfect opportunity to make a trip to the kitchen. The fridge is fully stocked, although all she wants is the greek yogurt on the top shelf.

"Hi!" A voice startles her from the kitchen table.

"Jesus fucking christ Ruby!" She covers her face looking down.

"You're not suppose to say stuff like that!" Ruby gets closer.

"Ruby why are you here alone!? Where is everyone!?"

"Um... I'm not here alone. You're here. Plus I'm 13. I can take care of myself."

"Oh... right."

She stares at the container, thinking about a way to get it, but Ruby is still there watching. Her niece is calculating, just waiting for Carrie to ask for help.

"Hey Ruby can you go get the door, I think I heard someone knock?"

"I didn't hear it."

"Well can you just go check?"

"No."

"Damn it Ruby please!"

"I know you need my help Aunt Carrie. All you have to do is ask."

"I don't need fucking help. I'm going to be this way forever so stop fucking trying to help me now! I just don't want to make you watch! So please go get the fucking door!"

She does what she is told, knowing that no one was at the door, but finds Carrie with what she was trying to get back in the kitchen.

"So where's your mom?" Carrie slowly engages in conversation seeing that Ruby was not going away.

"At the pediatrician."

It becomes awkward quick, but her niece continues to be curious.

"It's just a checkup, in case you were wondering," Ruby adds.

Carrie acknowledges her with a faint nod, but regrets what she had started.

"Mom said that you need to go to the doctor, I overheard her," Ruby admits. "She said you already missed two therapy sessions."

"So?" Carrie defends herself.

"So don't you want to get better?"

"You don't understand Ruby, you're a child. I'm not going to get better!"

"That's not what they said. They said you have a 20% chance. I may be a kid but a know what a damn fraction is!"

"Ruby!"

"No you listen to me Carrie! You still have a chance but you seem to hate yourself so much that you don't want to get better. If you're not going to do it for yourself than at least do it for Franny."

Carrie's eyes widen, hearing what she needed to, but not exactly what she wants.

"I... I will," Carrie claims feeling defeated by a teenager.

"You can say what you want, but you have to do it!"

* * *

Maggie is shocked to see that their dinner is interrupted by a virtual stranger.

"Hey," Maggie attempts to hide her confusion.

"I heard her cry. Thought she might be hungry."

"She is. I got it. It's okay."

"No Maggie it's not okay. I'll do it myself."

"Okay."

This small gesture is just the beginning.

* * *

"Hey," Maggie makes her way into Carrie's room at the end of the night.

"Hey."

"Carrie do you want to talk?" Maggie casts a short reel.

"Yeah," Carrie sits up slightly in the bed. Maggie sits at the end of the bed waiting for Carrie to say something first.

"Maggie I'm not going to lie to you, I was going to kill myself a week ago with the knife in the bathroom drawer."

"Shit!" Maggie jumps, racing into the bathroom locating the blade exactly where Carrie said it'd be.

"Jesus Christ Carrie!" Maggie returns unable to look away from the object and can't at her sister.

"I know, I know," Carrie continues hardly getting out her words.

"Carrie?" Maggie can no longer keep it in, beginning to sob.

"And then I didn't. And the next day I saw her and I thought about her and you... and," she can hardly continue as Maggie's tears are contagious.

"And all I could think about is what you would tell her when I was gone too!"

Carrie hugs her sister for the first time in a long time, almost a year.

"We all love you Carrie. Don't you ever think we don't."

"I know."

* * *

The morning is quiet again, almost.

"Hey you're up early," Maggie says.

"Yeah well I heard the cupboards being slammed so-"

"Yeah I don't know why Ruby is being so loud."

She spots the nanny with her daughter, wanting to ask to hold her but doesn't.

"Carrie you have an appointment today," Maggie disrupts her thoughts.

"Oh... But you have to work."

"I have a ride set up for you."

"Oh."

"Carrie you are going to go aren't you?"

"Um..."

"Carrie?"

She stares at her niece, then her daughter knowing that she at least had to do this one thing for them. No matter how much false hope she'd have to endure. The pain of hearing she could get better when she knew she never would.

* * *

"You leaving?" She asks the nanny.

"We were going to head for the park while you had your appointment. Is that alright?"

"Yeah, yeah of course."

The door slams and she's alone again. This was the first time she was back that she didn't want to be either. The slight knock on the door is rather comforting.

"It's unlocked," Carrie shouts hoping they'd hear her.

As the door eases open, Carrie regrets everything she had been thinking when Quinn appears in the doorway.


	10. Incomplete

A/N: next installment. You ready? And that everyone for the reviews and follows. I went way off course with this one, but it's something you'll never get to see in the show.

* * *

"Why are you here?" She's furious and keeping her eyes glued on the crack in the floor.

"Carrie I-"

"I told you that I don't want to see you. Did you not get that!?"

"I'm your ride," he says quietly.

"My ride!" She darts her attention back to him. "My fucking ride?"

"Well I'm taking you whether you want to go or not."

"Is that so?" she annunciates.

"Yeah I owe your sister a favor, so don't flatter yourself."

Her eyes widen. "Pff. I don't even want to know."

"Well I'll tell you all about it. If you get in the car."

"No!" She resists.

"Yes!" He practically demands.

She sits contemplating, longer that he'd expected. Though he's not willing to give up at anytime.

"Well I need a ride. Where'd you park?"

"Uh, the street."

"Okay this is what you're going to do. Pull it in the driveway, not halfway, all of the way. Get out. Come in. Then don't come back out for 5 minutes. Okay?"

"Whatever you want."

He knows exactly why she wanted him to do this. She didn't want his help or for anyone to see her.

* * *

"So my sister huh? I mean I know I'm crippled but..."

He almost can't believe she's making a joke about all of this and it doesn't make him feel any better about what happened.

"She bailed me out of jail," he says bluntly. "I called you when I got arrested, but she answered. Then came an got me."

"When the fuck was this? You are aware that I no longer drive right?"

"It was a bad day Carrie... about a week ago."

"What the fuck Quinn, what did you do?"

"Uh..."

"Don't take your eyes off the road!"

She swats his eyes away from looking at her.

"Beat the shit out of Dar. That's not why I got arrested though."

"Quinn!?"

"I had a few too many drinks let's just say that," he glances over at her utter confusion. "I'm out Carrie. Out of all of it!"

"You... oh."

"And just so we're clear this is what I want," he puts his hand over hers, a bit more confident than before.

"Quinn I don't even know why you are doing this. I don't want your pity okay?" Her voice rings with sadness, manifesting into his conscious.

"But I have to," he justifies.

She doesn't probe into his reasoning, because she know why. Putting him through this though, then she knows the next step - let him walk away. If it wasn't her pushing him away, it would be him not being able to take it. First mental illness strikes - now this! No way he'll stay.

* * *

"So we have to discuss the past month you've missed, okay?"

"Sure," she's nervous now.

"Why have't you been making it to your therapy sessions or appointments?" He begin.

"I was busy."

"Ahh. I see. So busy lady, what medications are you currently taking?"

Carrie lists off a laundry list of medications, spying on Quinn in the corner of her eye to determine his expression. She's surprised that he doesn't even flinch.

"Any alcohol?"

She's silent.

"Any alcohol Carrie?" He asks again after a long silence.

"Uh, Quinn can you give us a moment?"

"Sure Carrie."

She waits until she hears the door completely shut and his shoes clomping down the hall until answering.

"I was drinking, heavily the first few weeks," she admits.

"It's not an uncommon thing to do with your condition Carrie."

"Which one?" She spits.

He flips through the clipboard, pin pointing her revelation.

"Are you currently seeing your psychiatrist?"

"Yes I have one... but No I'm not."

"Any feelings of self-harm?"

"No!" She fires back.

"Others?"

"No," she calms herself.

"Anything unusual that you noticed?"

"Except the fact that I can't fucking walk?" She snaps again, trying her best to compose herself, breathing deeply. "Like what?"

"Anything getting easier? Worse? That sort of thing."

She suddenly recalls something. Something that didn't seem to matter at the time.

"Am I suppose to feel cold?"

"Excuse me?"

"I... I dropped an ice cube, right here. And I could swear I felt the cold. Not the cube though," she frowns.

"You what?" His questioning persists

"I don't know. Probably just imagined it," she dismisses it.

His hands scurry through the paperwork searching for answers.

"L5. Anterior. Complete. June 1st," he mutters facts off the chart.

He looks at her bedazzled, like it's his first day on the job.

"I need a minute Carrie. I'll be right back," he lifts his finger.

_Great_ _I'm dying._ She thinks.

The door clicks open and in walks in a fleet of staff.

"Carrie I'd like to give you another MRI today. In fact, I'm telling you that any other plans you have today she be completely forgotten about," he practically forces her.

"Okay? Well can you tell me if this is god or bad? Please?" Her voice is filled with uncertainty.

"We'll find soon okay?"

"Okay," a tear escapes her.

* * *

"Quinn!" She screams his name as they wheel her out, immediately capturing his attention.

"Hey," he runs over to walk with them.

"Quinn I can't do this anymore," she cries.

"Everything is going to be fine Carrie," he takes her hand.

He reads the doctor's face for approval before he makes matters worse.

"Where are you taking her?"

"MRI scan. You're free to come... Of course if she wants you to."

"I do! I want him to come!" She becomes hysterical.

* * *

Carrie relaxes rather quickly with him there as they begin to conduct the scan. She just wants it done an over with.

"Try not to move, okay?" The technician asks politely.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" She can't help but ask.

Quinn's devastated that he can't hold her hand the whole time. He can see a fear that he's seen before a few times. One he'll never get used to. But each time he's also seen her get through it. This was however vastly different.

"You get the shots... how many... 30?" The crew communicates.

"We're done?" Carrie asks.

"Lots of pictures! All done," the doctor smiles.

* * *

"Here we are. Back in your office. Now can I please just know what that was all about?"

He lowers his bifocals, preparing himself to deliver the news.

"I don't know how to say this, you were misdiagnosed."

"I don't understand!" Her hands fly in the air. "How do you misdiagnose this!" She points to herself.

"It's not extremely uncommon, but it is uncommon. You were previously diagnosed with an acute complete spinal cord injury, when is in fact incomplete..."

He spikes her attention and she braces herself for the words about to leave his mouth.

"... meaning your chances of recovery are significantly higher," he nods, "but not ensured.

She's shaking but doesn't know it. She wants to be angry, rip someone's head for their mistake, but how could she? After all of the hideous things she had done how could she be so lucky?

Words aren't forming, just manic like cries escaping her. Her world taking a slight shift from despair to hope. A chance to not only get better, but to heal relationships with the people she had hurt.

"Carrie I need you to understand that this is not a guarantee."

Carrie nods still shocked.

"Now you can continue coming here to be treated, but I must let you know that you do have options that are far more superior okay?"

"Okay."

"There is a rehabilitation facility located in Charlotte, North Carolina. One of the best in the country. I have the paperwork all ready to go. Is that something you need to sleep on?"

"No, no," she whimpers. "I'll... I'll go."

* * *

"You're still here?"

"Ready?" Quinn awaits her exit.

"Yeah... never been more."


	11. Whirlwind

A/n: Things get interesting again...

* * *

She's much lighter than before, but it had been expected. He's not sure what changed, but here she was letting him put her in the car. Quinn doesn't care either way, just that she's letting him come around. Except at the moment he can't stop himself from smelling her hair. He doesn't whack her head, but his own on the car, almost dropping her.

"Fuck Quinn! Am I that heavy?"

As soon as she's fully into her seat, he feels for the damage.

"Oh my god! You're bleeding!"

"I'm fine," he brushes it off letting it go. "You're hair... it smells good."

She can't help but blush as he circles the car, thankful that she had began to bathe daily. How can she tell him about today? How?

"Look at me," she says grabbing a tissue out of her purse. She slowly wipes the blood off of his forehead, careful not to smear it.

"There. Now you don't have to drive with blood getting into your eyes."

"Thanks," he checks the mirror as he takes off.

"So how did everything go?" He chooses his words delicately.

_Shit he's asking already._

"Fine."

"So is this going to be a weekly thing?"

"I don't know Quinn."

"Okay," he says in a voice she's familiar with. The one that says I know you're shutting me out and I'm only trying to help, but I'll let it go.

"Look I'm sorry. It's... hard."

Quinn exhales, turns to see her state.

"I shouldn't have let it happen," he says to her for the first time.

"I should have fought Quinn..."

"I should have stayed-"

"...for any reason. I did this to myself."

He considers what she says, still not accepting it.

"I don't want to hear you say that again," his voice is now stern, clear cut and she's listening. "You didn't nothing to deserve what you got."

She's tired of talking. Tired about talking about that day. It's now all about focusing and getting better.

* * *

She allows him to bring her in, but he refuses to leave when no one is home.

"Quinn I'm fine," she tells him.

"Did you call?" He orbits the front window, slowly circling it's perimeter.

"Yes, no one picked up. Can you at least sit down? I doubt my sister wants to be stared down when she walks into her own house."

"She should," he says.

"Quinn!"

"Fine," he finally breaks his stance. "But I'm not leaving until someone gets here.

"Really?" She folds her arms.

He plops next to her, sitting sloppily. "Really."

"I don't need a chaperon. You know I can be alone right?" She's now starting to convince herself that Maggie said something to him, but most likely not.

"You don't have to be," he moves his hand onto her knee, sitting up straight.

She can't feel it, but it's strange. Her brain is making her work in ways she had never before experienced.

"Good you're going to help me then," is all she can say, actually needing it.

"Okay... what?"

"They said I need to 'exercise'," she puts in quotations. "I need to move them."

Quinn nods, gets up and slowly helps her lay down on the couch.

"Like this?" He's quiet about it.

"Mmmmmhmm."

She's actually glad he stayed to keep her company and wonders if it's because he has no where else to go.

His hands are around her now depressingly thin ankles, pushing up and flexing her knee. They make their way up her calf, but he's not sure of himself entirely. He doesn't want to hurt her frail body, mostly wishes she hadn't lost so much weight.

"Where can you feel?" It eventually slips out of his mouth as he's curious as ever.

Carrie hasn't actually pinpointed an exact location. Hasn't even wanted to or tried. Just a basic idea. Her hand starts at her rib cage, trailing past her waist, then stopping at the beginning of her thigh. Quinn watches diligently, nodding when she stops. He ends does the other leg next and stops shorty after, allowing her to relax.

"I'm tired Quinn," her arm rests over her eyes.

Quinn kneels, eye level. "I'm going to make you something to eat."

"I'll eat later."

"Carrie?"

"I promise!" She's defensive. "They gave me Somas."

"Fine can I sit then?"

"If you can find a spot."

He unexpectedly hoists her head, she still doesn't flinch or care, and takes a seat resting her head in his lap. She's comfortable and he knows it. Her arm still lies over her eyes, until he levers it away exposing her entire face.

His gaze is now synchronizing with her equally long stare. The scrutiny becoming mutual, impossible to look away. Then she feels his lips clinging to hers.

There's a collective need, dependent on each other in the moment. She can't quite remember kissing him the last time, too drunk. The sensual nature of it alone though, is simply arousing for both of them. She embraces him, needing it. A way to feel again.

The length of her hair seems unmeasurable as his fingers run through it, cradling her head with the other hand. Her own free hand smooths over his newly shaven face, capturing his ear with her finger tips, pulling gently. Both triggers erupt a whirlwind and he begins to re-explore the rest of her. The knock occurring at the door does the work for her, immediately ending the session.

"Help me up Quinn," she says.

The door opens and all Maggie sees is the distance between them.

"Hello," Maggie greets them. "I didn't know who's car that was. I don't know why that I wasn't thinking that it was you," she directs toward Quinn.

"He was just leaving," she says abruptly.

Quinn gives her a conspicuous glare, as it was not the case. Maggie doesn't allow herself to delve into it while he's still there.

"Here," she attempts to hand Franny over.

"I just took a muscle relaxer."

"Oh, okay. Will you be up for dinner?"

"Pff. Probably not."

Quinn is secretly stunned with her, but not as stunned as he is to finally see Franny. Up close that is. He'd never vocally bring it up though. Confused for the time being, he excuses himself as politely as possible.

"Well," he rises. "I'm going to take off," he gives a pathetic wave.

"Wait! Won't you stay for dinner?" Maggie asks.

"No, but thank you. I'll call you Carrie," he says as he leaves.

Maggie waits until he gone to say anything else.

"Who is he Carrie?"

"I work with him," she states the obvious.

"That's not what I meant," Maggie narrows her eyes at her and forces her to hold her daughter.

Carrie takes a second to adjust. It's still difficult, but she knows she needs to be as responsible as she can for her. Their connection is still rather shaky and she wonders, if ever, if that will change. She does wants it to, eventually.

"How'd it go," Maggie asks her as Carrie is unsuccessfully trying to conversate with Franny. She diverts her attention quickly.

"So... I have to leave," she tells her.

"What do you mean leave?"

Carrie breathes as she's still trying to accept it herself.

"There's a facility in Charlotte. I already made up my mind, I'm going."

"What about her?"

"Maggie... they said I can get better."

Maggie takes a seat, her interest peaked.

"Go on."


	12. That place on 4th

He gives her a few days, gives himself a few days. Blames himself for everything that happened all over again. He shouldn't have done that. Knows that they both needed to process what happened, or only she does. He knows what he wants. Mostly just wonders if it was real or not and dying to know if there was anything truly there.

Finally there's some movement when he sees a car pull into the driveway. He'd been out there for hours after knocking on the door and convinced himself that no one was home.

"Hey Maggie," he stops her as she's pulling Franny out of the car. The girls run past him, disregarding his presence.

"It's late what are you doing here?"

"Where is she?" He glances into the van, almost violating Maggie's space. Although Maggie is not concerned with Quinn.

"She didn't tell you?" Maggie asks pensively.

His look gives her the answer.

"I just dropped her off in Charlotte this afternoon."

He tilts his head now looking further confused.

"It's where she wanted to go," Maggie continues. "They have one of the best recovery programs in the country."

He has an epiphany. _Why hadn't she told him?_

"You're saying she has a chance?"

He knew she would have never went if she didn't.

Maggie hands him Franny's diaper bag and belongings.

"Look Peter, I know she wouldn't want me to tell you anything more. If she wanted you to know than she would have told you... but I'm going to anyways."

He follows her to the door, forced to keep moving and making his way inside .

"Have a seat," she tells him.

"Why are doing this for me?" He asks.

"Because I like you." She's truthful.

Quinn wishes that was a duel inheritance. He smiles and waits for her to continue.

"She's in a long term program. She was misdiagnosed."

_Why wouldn't she tell me?_ He wants to say.

"Oh?"

"I need to warn you. I know what's going to happen if you go," she continues. "I know my sister... I just want to tell you that you're wasting your time."

_No I'm not._ He thinks

"I don't think so. If anything... I haven't been around enough."

"Peter," Maggie grabs his shoulder. She stops a second realizing how buff he is. Jesus what was Carrie thinking? "She has her own agenda. I'm not sure if anyone else fits," she tells him honestly.

"Thank you," he says getting up to leave.

"Will you stay for dinner?" Maggie tries for the second time.

"I don't see why not. Thank you."

Maggie thinks to herself how she wants to club Carrie in the head and knock some sense into her. Maybe then she'd open her eyes a bit more.

* * *

The first day has gone by quickly. She'd met so many people - doctors and other patients. Their words full of hope and filled with encouragement. There's a resonate feel to the place and for the first time she really feels like she's going to get better.

She's never been more lucky, she'd thought. A real second chance. But when she gets to her room for the night things change. No laughter or silliness in the hall. No noise at all. Just her. It bothers her. She doesn't exactly know what it was. Was she missing them, her family?

Eventually the sedatives kick in an she's down for the count. Conforms to her bed - as if she had a choice. When she closes her eyes she thinks of them, can't help it. She has thoughts about people that she hadn't thought about for a long time too. Eventually she goes back to thinking aboit herself, then loses consciousness.

* * *

A week goes by and a routine is finally establishing itself. She's made friends - never thought that could happen, especially here. They'd talk about their families, but she was always silent. Never actually telling people about her past. They'd eventually find out for themselves. They knew it meant one of two things: she either didn't have a family or things were shaky with them. Everyone's more exposed here than she thinks.

* * *

"Hi I'm here to see Carrie Mathison," Quinn notifies security.

"And the child?" They ask.

"Hers," he responds promptly.

The man raises an eyebrow. He'd never known a patient with her circumstance with such a young child. Looks as though it was odd considering her gunshot wound injury happened in Pakistan. He directs Quinn to her location.

He finds her in the rec room, on a break from her long day of physical therapy.

"Qu- Quinn? What are you doing here?"

"Someone wanted to see you," he passes Franny over without asking.

She smiles at her mother like she misses her. Like she'd been in her life the entire time. Carrie can't even stop herself from smiling back.

"Hi baby," she kisses her. "I missed you."

She hadn't realized this until right now. How much she missed their mornings. But she knows being here will be much more rewarding in the long run. Not just for herself.

Quinn sees a look on her face like he's been waiting for it since the day they met. This genuine gaze he's seeing. It's a real sincere grin to match the heart he knows she has. He'd give anything to unlock her soul. To expose the Carrie that he can see beneath the layers and layers of despair and sadness that had taken over her life. Luckily he brought a magical token.

Sweat emerges from his brow. It's not entirely clear to him how to proceed.

"We missed you," he says.

Her eyes divert from the infant, almost as if she forgot he was there.

"I'm sorry Quinn." The stench of silent air is lingering until she speaks again. "I... I should have told you."

He nods, "It's okay."

"Can we go to my room?"

He shakes his head once more and does as she asks, wheeling her to 109.

* * *

The walls are barren. Not a single thing in it to personalize the place. She just knows that is what he's thinking.

"I haven't had a chance to unpack. I've got pictures," she interrupts his personal investigation of the room. "Can you grab them for me?"

Quinn opens her extra suitcase finding a few framed pictures of Franny, one of her and her nieces, and one of all of them with Maggie and her dad.

"Here?" He asks beginning to prop them on the nightstand.

"Yeah there," she chokes.

"How long are you going to be here?" He asks.

"Could be six months," she focuses her attention on Franny to avoid looking at him.

"I'd like to come see you more often."

She ignores him.

"Like every week. Do you want me to bring you anything next week?"

"Quinn."

"I know you like that place on 4th. I could bring you-"

"Quinn!" She barks loudly, barricading his proposal and crushing it to pieces.

He's furious now, actually pissed off.

"What the fuck is your problem!?" He slams the door.

"What do mean what is my problem? What is that suppose to mean?"

"Jesus Carrie you know exactly what I mean!"

Franny begins to cry after hearing them scream. Carrie tries to settle her, not getting very far.

"I'll take her," he says.

She block his reach. "This is your fault! I can do it myself! I didn't say you could take her anyways!"

"Well someone has to!" He inadvertently takes a shot to the heart.

It devastates her. He can see it in her face and he paces rapidly not exactly meaning what he'd said.

"Carrie I'm sorry!"

"No you're not. Just take her and leave," she tells him nearly muted.

He doesn't want to fight. Doesn't want either one of them to raise their voices again.

He grabs the baby off her lap, and sets her on her feet leaving her to stand on her own while he grabs Franny's things. Carrie can see out of the corner of her eye and she's speechless. Her own baby stands and she can't. Even if she could speak she wouldn't know what to say. As Quinn picks her up to leave, neither of them can say anything, almost as if it's back to square one again.

* * *

His drive back is ridiculous. A few hours later, he's still spending the entire time venting to Franny.

"I just don't get it. I don't get your mom," he peers into the backseat as if he'll get a reponse. "Why is she like this?"

She was easy to talk to though, because she didn't talk back. Never countered his take.

Just then his phone rings, sees that it's Carrie and ignores the call. Figures she's just calling him to ream him out. Or say something that he's heard a million times and still doesn't get.

When it beeps again he notices that she left a voicemail. He tries so hard to not listen. However his resistance is utterly futile and he gives in, putting it on speaker.

_'Quinn... it's me Carrie_,' she seems calm and he chuckles at the fact that she tells him who it is like he wouldn't know. _'Look... I'm sorry. Maggie's bringing her in a few days... I would like to see you again next week, alone... and talk. And bring the Veggie lasagna from the place on 4th. I'll pay you back. Okay... um bye_."

He hadn't realized how big his own mouth was until right now. Literally from ear to ear. There was something there that he'd known was there all along. It wasn't all in his head. He likes being right.


	13. Dessert wine

It's like the longest week of his life. He hesitates not to call her. Only just once to confirm he's coming. Occupies his time with anything, some days being with Franny; taking her to the park, the zoo. Maggie really likes him. The day she goes with Maggie to see her, he wanted so badly to come along. Just to see what they were doing with Carrie. Wondering how much she smiled when they came.

The day he gets to see her, it's like a brick hit him. It was the day he'd been waiting for. His cooler filled and her food with a hot pack to keep it warm for her. He'd brought her a little something extra for dessert too. He was so sick of her being that thin. Seeing the life drained out of her to that extent. At least she'd looked somewhat healthy in Islamabad.

When he gets there it's everything he'd ever imagined. She greets him with a smile and they eat dinner together - that alone making him happy. She starts talking to him about her days there. It's almost like he didn't want to say anything at all, just listen to her forever. Until she asks what he hadn't expected.

"So how are you? What have you been up to?" She asks.

She's never asked him how he was or anything like that. He only says what's on his mind.

"Thinking about you."

"Oh... But how are you?" She asks again.

"Good," is all he can come up with, taking a bite of his food. He can sense the disappointment from her with his answer. "I'm looking for a job," he says shortly after.

"Like what?" She immediately asks him because he's finally talking about something other than her.

"I don't know... anything."

"Well what are you good at?"

He sits awhile thinking.

"I'm good with my hands," he says and she gives him a serious look down. "Well, I can maybe... I don't know Carrie."

She doesn't know what to make of this. He had to be lying about it.

"I brought you more," he says changing the topic, reaching into another cooler.

"You didn't have to."

The first thing he pulls out is a cannoli, insisting that she try it.

"Really?"

"Really," he says. "They ship their cream in from Italy."

"Fine, I have to try it now."

"Good, but that's not all," he pulls out a giant bottle of dry white wine, Chardonnay to be exact.

"Now that I'll keep," she laughs.

"Do you share?" He asks, pulling out two styrofoam cups .

"Well you did buy it."

"True."

Before they know it, it's gone and he helps her into bed.

"I want to see you again next week," he blurts out.

"Me too," she says as their eyes lock.

He parts her lips with his, quickly diving in his tongue, needing for this to happen. There's no asking first. She does enjoy it though; how he slowly sits on the bed, kissing her passionately, touching her face and neck. To feel wanted at a time like this is unreal. After a minute she releases herself from him as difficult as it is, pressing her face to his clavicle.

"I'll see you next week?" She says.

"Yeah," he takes the brief moment to memorize her scent. A whole other week to pass by.

* * *

He can't even drive right now with his heavy eyes, yet he took her advice and left. Though leaving half in the bag wasn't the best idea, he'd see her next week and maybe he'd stay a bit longer - the night maybe. He liked today, no loved today. Going back home just wasn't about to happen. He needs to stay close for now.

He picks up a six pack and gets a hotel room next door and thinks about her. Opens the door still thinking about her. He guzzles down a few beers in attempt to extend the buzz he got while being with her. Now undressing himself to shower, it's all he can think about. Not a second that it stops. It's impossible for him not to. The throbbing pain beneath his boxers was not doing much to help the situation.

The steaming water comes out fast, pounding his face and it felt so good hitting the rest of him sending a tingle to his spine. _Fucking ironic._ He thinks. It feels good being this close to her for the night. Her scent washing slowly away from him and he doesn't want to forget it. His self control is completely obliterated when begins stroking himself. The mental image of her smile plastered dead center in his brain. Remembering their last time and how bad it was that she hadn't remembered. But next time, he'll make sure he's good. Making sure her needs are met before any of his own. Do anything for her.

When he comes he still thinks of her and doesn't stop. He does it over and over until the water runs cold and he realizes how long he'd been in there. Until he's drained and falls into bed naked, face first into the mattress wishing she was beside him. Wishing that he'd tell her he loved her once more, for real this time.

God he'd never felt so good about something. Tonight was different - she was different. Nobody could ever convince him that it wasn't real.

* * *

Carrie lies awake completely restless thinking about him too. Except she's think about how he's going to get hurt. Trying so hard to think of a way to end this before he doesn't. There's no way he wasn't going to. Everyone in her life a target. No way around it. She can't see how he's any different. But how did it get this far?

It's so hot and she's sweating. She throws the blankets to the ground and takes a real hard look below, wishing she could just get up to open a window or anything. Quinn would do it, if he was here. He'd have to.

She starts to think about the possibility of not getting better, why she hasn't yet, and what that would mean. About what that would do to her, how she'd ever get past that. What her options would be. She hates thinking like this, but this is what happened when she really thought about herself lately. The times that she ruled everyone else out, just her.

For now she gives in calling the nurse for a couple ambien and asking them to open a window. A quick remedy to dissolve herself for the night. The drugs easily overpower her anxiety, and sleep comes.

* * *

Seconds turn into hours, minutes into days, days into years. He doesn't know how he's managed a whole week. She's constantly flickering into his thoughts, invading his life. This week he brought her something new that he remembered she'd like. He heard her say if at one point or another along with more wine and dessert.

"Hey," is all he can say when he walks in, though she doesn't look at him. "Carrie?" His second approach is much more cautious.

She sitting next to the window, just glaring ahead at nothing, possibly a raindrop.

"Not now Quinn," he can hear the depressive tone in her voice.

He pulls up a chair next to her and she doesn't try to stop him.

"Bad day?" He asks.

"Yeah," her head falls down. "Week actually."

He lifts her chin up needing desperately to look at her face, to see if she's still there.

"You're doing great Carrie," he says earnestly.

There's a spark in his eyes and he's not saying it just because.

"Why me Quinn?"

"Bad luck."

"No. I mean... you. Why me?"


	14. Hunger

A/N: Things are going to move a little more quickly after this.

* * *

"Carrie," he pauses and sits back running his hand through his hair. "I can't stop fucking thinking about you," he places his hands on his knees, moving them up and down his thighs, not able to sit still.

She momentarily looks away for a second then back at him. "Then don't," her voice is still somber. "I'm no good for you."

"Yes you are," he immediately objects.

"How?"

"Well... I'm out. That's one thing," the words just come to him.

"And what else have you done besides... well this?" she folds her arms.

He gets up roaming around, wandering to nowhere. She's thinks she's only dangling a carrot in front of a rabbit, but she's actually poking a stick into the cage of a hungry lion.

"I went to the gym everyday this week, you know that? I went to a restaurant and bought a meal for more than just myself," he perches over the chair. "I finally did that tour in D.C. that I used to make fun of people for doing, I took Franny down a slide. And you know what? I liked doing all of those things," he's nearly out of breath after speaking so quickly, but not quite.

"I can't do ANY of those things! Don't you get that Quinn! And even if I-"

"You will. Yes, you will!" He sits now that she is engaged. "I know you will."

"How?" She asks, needing the answer. "How do you know? What if I never get better? And even if I do-"

"Jesus Carrie you've been here three weeks. Stop thinking like that... and maybe you will."

She takes a deep breath.

"I wish I could just see everybody... well... you know after."

"It's not going to happen," he tells her quite frankly.

"Well if you keep coming here..." she pauses not knowing what to say as he begins to unload the food anyways. "Then... then I'm going to get fat."

"Good," he says, as she can almost feel his breath with how deliberate he said it. Then he throws the food in front her and grabs her hand, shoving the fork into her hand.

She opens up the box he hands her with little appetite.

"Eat," he says and she's not sure if he's asking or telling, but she still doesn't want to touch it.

"I said eat Carrie," he demands, slamming his fist on the table making her jump. He doesn't mean to be so harsh, but his worried eyes make up for his tone. He abandons his own meal for a moment, observing her.

"Thank you," she says almost unable to look at him. They don't speak as they eat, but he keeps a watchful eye to be sure that she does.

It seems pointless that he's here and they're not speaking.

"You wanna talk about it? What happened this week?" He asks cracking through his recent outburst.

"Not really."

"Fine we'll talk about something else."

"Like what? I'm assuming that you don't have a job, right?"

"We don't have to talk about either one of us- if you don't want to." He'd avoided talking about this, but he's got nothing left. "Has uh... Saul come here?" He asks as they're finishing up.

"Yeah... a few weeks ago. Why?"

"He's going back... to Islamabad."

"He what? How do you know?"

"He told me," he says.

She knows why he didn't tell her before, but why was he telling her now.

"Lockhart rehired him, as an agent. A lot of people are gone, he needed someone."

"What is he doing there? Doesn't he know what the fuck just happened there?"

"There's still people and things that got left behind."

"He's cleaning up my mess."

"I didn't say that."

"Why are you telling me this now? If you're out... then why did he tell you?"

"He asked me to go... I said no."

She nods not saying anything more. No more questions. It's clear why.

"Thanks for dinner," she says as he collects the empty dishes.

He's surprised at her thanks, that she said it out loud twice, and he notices that she realizes he is.

"Quinn?" She says as he's still cleaning up.

"Yeah?"

"I know you came a long way to see me..."

"Ye- yeah?" He's completely terrified for what's about to come out of her mouth either way to it.

"...so... for next time," his racing heart finally slows, "I don't know if I'll be tomorrow or a week or two months from now. But I just need to figure some shit out okay?"

He finally swallows the lump in his throat, thinking it was going to be worse - or was it? Two months? Two fucking months? There's no way. But, she said NEXT time.

"I'm going to bed okay?" She tells him.

He's still not sure if he should help or not. It was the kind of arbitrary that he was damned if he did or damned if he didn't. This time he does like he had the week before and she doesn't seem to complain.

"Can you grab my toothbrush and a cup?" She asks and he does it.

"Water?" She asks and he fetches some, continuing to just do for her.

He still stands there even when she's done, staying not wanting to go.

"Fuck Carrie. I don't want to leave."

"You can stay a bit longer, if you want," she says having nothing else to offer him at the moment.

"No. No, I'm just gonna leave," he's slightly scattered, grabbing his things.

He looms over her bed, not exactly sure what kind of goodbye this was. Suddenly he can't help it. She's right there in front of him and he cannot stop himself from tasting her lips once more, possibly for the last time. Sitting now on the bed again, leaning into her so much that even if she was, he wouldn't be able to tell if she was trying to resist, absolutely no space between them. There's little that can stop him. He wants her so fucking bad right now and it's all wrong and knows it. He ventures to her pantie line, unsure of what he's even doing. She can't do a thing about, except maybe scream - as if he was taking advantage or something. A force inside makes him stop when he lifts his head up just enough to see her eyes. Relief washes over her, he can see it, knows it.

He's mortified at what he'd done. Whatever was there probably gone now. "I'm sorry," he's panting and rushing out as quickly as he can.

* * *

"Today's topic is 'What motivates us to heal'. I've seen a lot of negativity lately and I think that it's important for us to discuss that. So everybody... who wants to start?"

Carrie listens intently, deep in thought now, but ready to listen to the others.

"Carrie."

"Huh? What?" She's caught off guard, in the spotlight now with everyone in the group's eyes on her.

"Carrie you've been here for a month now and haven't said a word. How about you start?"

She panics now, can't believe what they're asking of her.

"Um... no that's okay, thank you," she holds out her hands in front of her as if she's trying to avoid an army.

"You sure?" The group leader asks again and she's silent. They sits there waiting and waiting for her to speak until it's pointless.

"I'll start," another patient says. "I've been-"

"I'm a bad mom," the words begin to flow out of Carrie's mouth. She doesn't even know why she's telling these people, though she doesn't make an eye contact. "I'm a horrible sister... and an even worse friend. Even before this happened," she says with her head down now. They're all listening now.

"I came all the way here, because I didn't think they'd come. And yet... they still come. Still come to see me and I don't know why," her silence is now powerful, gripping actually. They can all tell this is the first time that she's ever said any of this out loud. Tears are now escaping her.

"And I just... just want to find a way you know. To let them know that I do care. And if I get better," she's barely audible through the pain in her voice now, her eyes flooded, "then I'll be able to do the same for them. But... I don't know how."

Another patient who she doesn't even know embraces her, allowing Carrie to literally cry on her shoulder.

"My baby doesn't even know I'm her mother," her last confession is muffled, yet heard.

There's no bashing or judgement flying in her direction. Only solace and praise for her honesty.

"Thank you for sharing Carrie."

She does feel better. Not better better, but relieved. Like she's not thinking about only tomorrow and if that'll be the day, but really thinking about what happens when this is over. Thinking about the company that she wants to keep and who she doesn't. No one else seems to have a story quite like hers, but the struggle is mutual.

She's stopped as she leaves the meeting.

"Carrie?"

"Yeah?"

"I'd like it if you'd come talk to me, in private. Of course if you want to."

"I'd like that," she says.

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, tomorrow."


	15. A good friend

"Carrie, so glad you could meet me today."

"I did, I made it. I'm here."

She insists on sitting on the couch and the doctor observes her determination.

"So what do you want to talk about today Carrie?"

"I thought that you are the one who's suppose to ask all the questions?" She says adjusting herself.

"I'm all ears. Whatever you want."

This place wasn't like any other hospital she'd been in. Her room is more like a real room; normal bed, real kitchen, no locks on the outside of her door or alarms. Like a studio apartment with an open door. Plus no one treats like she's a problem. Just someone genuinely seeking help.

"I don't know," she looks around for a moment. "I just got back from physical therapy," is the only thing that comes to mind.

"And how'd that go today? What did you do?"

"I went swimming... can't remember the last time I did that," she cracks a glimpse of a smile. "It's just... frustrating."

"I know it is Carrie."

"And how would you know?" Carrie immediately questions her 'support'.

"I was a patient here ten years ago," she tells her calmly.

"You were!?"

She nods. "Now what do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know what to say to them," Carrie tells her. "What if it's different when I get out of here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe I'll be better for everyone if I just... stayed like this."

"You're there Carrie. You made it."

"What do you mean?"

"Acceptance. You can only move forward from here."

She considers it deeply. "I guess so, yeah... can I come back tomorrow?"

"Whenever you want."

* * *

The next few days, she tells her a bit more. She talks about her bipolar disorder and eventually she brings up Franny. She tells her she has no one to talk to about it. Tells her how she left her and about her father dying before she was born. Says she can't be with her without being reminded of him.

"She's your daughter too," Dr. Whitmer says after listening for awhile.

"What?" Carrie says though she hears her.

"Now," the doctor looks up trying to paint the picture for her. "Now think of her as _your_ daughter," she emphasizes, "what do you see?"

Carrie thinks, embracing the process. "She smiles like me," Carrie laughs. "And she stares down strangers like it's her job."

Dr. Whitmer observes the change, but waits to say anything.

"Do you think she'll be mad at me?" Carrie asks.

"Is that what you're afraid of?"

"Yes," she quickly admits.

She chooses her words carefully. "I think it's unfair to decide that for her."

Carrie shakes her head. "Yeah."

* * *

They talk about it often the next few weeks, on and off. Carrie herself starts to notice how much she misses her, but recently Maggie's been to busy to bring her down. It actually becomes difficult to talk about her with the reasons being the exact opposite than before.

"Can we just talk about something else?"

"Like I said Carrie, you can talk about anything you want."

It's quiet for awhile, almost too long.

"I have this friend," she begins. "He's... a good friend."

And she talks about Quinn, picking the situation apart more than she has to. Dr. Whitmer doesn't tell her anything she doesn't all ready know. Just listens.

* * *

It's this particular day she decides she's just had enough of not seeing them. Distance is not what she needs right now, especially now. She calls Maggie first, excited to tell her about her day even. Maggie's delighted that she did, but just can't make it today. Then tells her she probably can't make it for Franny's birthday next week. Carrie only blames herself for being so far away - choosing it and accepts it.

Quinn sees his phone light up - though he's no longer excited when it does. It's been weeks since he had a glimmer of hope left in him. He ignores it.

A few hours later when he leaves the range he sees by accident that she has called. An irregular heartbeat begins thudding in his chest and he's shaking, not sure if her calling is a good or a bad thing. He decides that if it's the last time he speaks with her that he's got to do it in person. It's already into the afternoon and he heads for Charlotte the second he walks out the doors.

He's got nothing for her this time. No food or wine to bring to her. Absolutely no time to stop either. The only thing he's going to get at this point is a speeding ticket and possibly a pat down for smelling like a gun range. He thinks even of they did try to stop him he wouldn't pull over anyways. He knows how to get away.

* * *

"I don't know what I was thinking Quinn," she says as soon as he enters, in a way that he's not sure how to take. "Why didn't you call me back?"

He gets closer knowing that his voice wouldn't be loud enough to project. "I was worried... that you'd tell me no."

"You came. Sit," she taps her hand on the couch.

"Okay."

"I missed you. A lot," she says.

Quinn puts his arms around her as she puts her head into his chest. "Me too," he says. Though it wasn't possible to put into words just how much he did.

They sit there in a loose tangle, their limbs becoming floppy. He didn't want to hang on tight just to have to let go.

All of a sudden she moves her right thigh, just barely, and he's glad he's here to see it.

"I'm proud of you Carrie," he smiles as he caresses her leg.

"Quinn?" She says.

"Yeah?"

"Can you lock the door?"

"Why?" He's not sure why he's asking.

"I want to kiss you."

He nods almost unaware of his own fire stoking inside.

He returns, meeting her eyes with intend as she lies lazily in front of him. It's pretty much taunting at this point when he just stands still, but all she can do is only watch. Now feeling her own primal needs burning inside, needing her own release.

Without warning he carries her to her bed. It's automatic when he braces himself over her, careful not to hurt her in anyway. His lower body to the side of her and upper body settling above her. The taste of her lips never gets old. Even better now that it's a fully welcomed invitation.

When he pulls back for just a second she whispers. "Fuck me Quinn."

He tells her no, then kisses her again before she can speak. This doesn't stop him from exploring her, though still extremely weary of hurting her.

"I don't want to hurt you," he says not a half inch away from her lips.

She reaches down to touch him and he grabs her hand before she gets a chance.

"Carrie I can't," he tells her even though it pains him to.

"You can't or won't," she whimpers.

Quinn's silent, worried all over again that he'll upset even though he wasn't sure that's possible at this moment.

"I want to," he props himself up.

He pulls down her shorts a little bit at first, deciding a second later to completely take them off, delicate with every motion. Carrie watches him like a hawk, mostly because she's waiting for him to do something. She almost wants to beg him, but knows it's completely unnecessary. It's really that she's just anxious about her body.

He gets on his knees as if he's about to get up, never taking his eyes off of her, and swiftly parts her thighs when she can't any further. Two fingers slowly trace the outside of her folds, then running his smooth palm across her heat.

His fingers are so soft as they make their way to the middle, beginning to slide in and out of her. To this point she'd been to terrified to find out for herself. Though the sensations are different, maybe better now or maybe different because it's him.

She can see his hardness protruding through the denim and wishes she could reach him from where he's kneeling - knows he wouldn't allow it anyways. Instead she decides to let herself go, not exactly sure who wants it more right now.

Mostly ignited by the smoldering heat, sweat forms and her body begins to glisten, illuminating her. Her scent permeates the air with desire and his fingers are slick with excitement as he plunges them in further. Her face is now contorted into an expression of unexplainable pleasure. With her eyes rolled back, soft cries escaping her. She wants to touch him too, but can't, so she grabs a hold of the sheets instead.

"Yeah. That's it Carrie," he whispers.

Quinn's thumb rubs slow circles across her clit while he continues fucking her with his fingers. Her moans become louder and his cock begins to twitch.

"Agh agh agh," she moans until she can't anymore. She clenches her teeth at the same time clenching around him, overcome by him like the spell she had thought he was under, completely captured by him. The waves traveling through less of her, making them almost more concentrated.

He's greedy though, ever so satisfied even without being touched. He sucks his fingers, in between and all like a thirsty animal. Directly after, he heads for the bathroom and she assumes he's finishing himself off - though she doesn't blame him. She lies their content and relaxed, still slightly pulsating from her orgasm, realizing she's smiling too.

Quinn quickly comes back with a tissue to clean her up, puts her shorts back on for her, then turns her body slightly so he can align his body with hers. He manages to abandon his own erection, as he's not nearly as hard against her - though she doesn't know how long he can go from here. His arm wraps around her like she's his possession, his prize. She's starting to feel like it's the other way around.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" He asks gently.

"No."

"You make me happy," he tells her.

"Stay the night," she says now half asleep from resting so comfortably against his body, in his arms.

He doesn't say a word, yet doesn't move, just falls asleep with her.


	16. Nothing to fear

A/N: only a few chapters to go...

They wake pretty earlier the next morning, full rays hitting their faces, gradually giving them sunburn The quality of sleep had done them some good, possibly the first full night for them both. His arms are still settled around her, never leaving her. He's mostly just glad that no one interrupted their sleep.

"I need to shower," she tells him as he breathes into her hair and she knows he's awake too.

"So do I."

At first he actually does start washing her on the shower bench, his hands all over her body. But it becomes more difficult now that she touching him. Her hand cups over his length and it's as if he never really completely settled from the night before. He lathers her hair with shampoo while she stokes him, his cock achingly throbbing in the potent sheath. The rush of blood surges and he has to hold himself up against the wall - now the one needing support. One second of opening his eyes and he breaks, surrendering to her how he knew he would.

"Will you stay today?" She asks him as they dress for the day.

"You uh... have therapy," he says.

"Come. You can come. Lots of people come."

"Okay."

He sticks around all week and even decides to work with her. His presence is more of a motivation than anything. When she has those moments where she feels the urge to give up, she looks at him and tries again and again. She gets stronger each day, almost regaining complete sensation - though her lower legs still not particularly functioning. It all becomes possible when she wears the braces and he holds her upright with her feet just barely touching the floor and she takes her first couple of steps.

At night he stays across the street to keep them from each other. He's not sure exactly what he'll do and she's still very much recovering - not to mention the fact that overnight visitors are against policy. After a week of sticking around, he tells her that he has to go home for a few days. She doesn't ask why, just tells him to come back - though she knows he will.

* * *

A few days pass and she goes to therapy like she does every morning. Same routine day in and day out eat; therapy; session; nap; eat; therapy; session; eat; shower; bed.

It seems strange when no one is there for group session. She was really in the mood to talk today. It's just an empty room, so she enters the space and sits wondering where they are. Sitting there alone in that room feels better than nothing. It's the nothing she fears now. She expects to go back to her room for a few hours to watch some mindless comedy show on television, then head back to physical therapy after lunch. So much for her day, she thinks.

When she heads back to her room, the idea of deviating from her schedule feels unthinkable, especially today. It had become so monumental to her recovery. Doing the same thing every day over and over and expecting different results was anything but insanity, things did change. The routine has become necessary. She wants something to occupy her mind. Anything. Every time she hears footsteps making their way down the hall she wants it to be Quinn or Maggie or even Saul for that matter.

* * *

It's been a whole year since the first time she'd laid eyes on her child, today about this very time. The day's mostly one giant blur to her. Relief is still fresh, she remembers that. And that fear is vivid too. The fear of making all the wrong choices for somebody who she didn't want to claim, who she couldn't because of who she was. This one person who has made her feel so sad and also so happy, sometimes at the same time.

She rests her head on the pillow, in dyer need to to be asleep so that the nothingness goes away. The light is hardly peeking in, but keeping her awake. What she would do to make herself get up and shut the blinds. But she's smiling thinking about what Franny's doing. Possibly trying a new food for the first time or maybe babbling some sort of gibberish, trying out her first word. She does know that she wants to be apart of it - and soon. Of all the sadness that engulfed their relationship, their few moments of happiness are the ones that remain fresh, that are something. And finally just as her she shuts her eyes, a pair of footsteps stop at her door.

She knows it's him even without seeing his shadow or hearing his voice. He leans against the doorway and she can tell by the weight of his body it's him. She doesn't pretend to be asleep, yet doesn't turn.

"Let's go for a walk," he says, knowing that there's not a chance she's asleep.

And as hard as it was just minutes ago to think about moving, she pops ready to go. Within seconds he takes her in his arms and she holds on tight, even though there's not chance he's letting go.

"What floor?" She says.

"You hungry?" He asks.

"Yeah," she remembers she hasn't eaten today and it's almost three.

"First," he says.

He grabs her walker almost not believing how far she'd come and how hard she was working for this. She did this, no one else. His hands lock under her arms to support her, but she takes each stride without complaining.

In the elevator she's struggles as they're at a stand still, but refuses to give up.

"What are you going to get," he occupies her attention.

"I don't know... Quinn let go," she insists.

When he does she slips. His grip is ready and he catches her. It's like she knew it was going to happen, but had to try, even if failure was imminent. She had to see what would happen. He holds her back up and the doors open.

Carrie's movements are slow, glacial. Not once does she stop or change pace, continuing to move no matter how difficult it became. Quinn holds on tighter as they get to the doors and he knows what she sees when she goes completely limp for a moment. She should have known.

"You brought her," she says, hardly able to speak.

A few staff members and patients are playing with her, passing her around like a trophy. She's content with all of the attention, but it's obvious that she's searching the room for a familiar face.

Carrie had slowly rationed pieces of herself to Quinn, he took piece by piece until he made her move, until he found just the right crack. But this is all at once and different, and she crumbles. Her foundation gives and it goes. The weigh of her body lies entirely in his arms now, stooped all over again. It quickly regenerates - fortifies this time - and she gives everything she has to move. She wants nothing more right now then to make her legs work just to make it into the next room.

He does the work for her knowing it had to be now, understanding her immediate needs. Franny eventually sees her and waves, flagging her down like she's been her target all along. A domain so primitive that it can't be explained. Eyes open wide and alert waiting to see what she does, to see if she sees her too.

She finally takes her in her arms, overcome by her laughter. One laugh unexplainably healing her body, another making her forget about the pain and guilt. Not a shadow of restlessness, just wanting more of it.

Carrie kisses the back of her head between her miniature pigtails and it's the first time she has. But she doesn't feel regret for it, it will happen again. Franny touches her hair too when she does, like it's a game.

"Hi. Hi baby," Carrie speaks delicately. Her voice is unrecognizable, even to herself. "Happy birthday."

Franny climbs up her mother, standing upright in her lap while Carrie supports her, hanging on good. She examines Carrie's face with her hand like she's trying to be sure that it's her. They're kind of the same right now, both just curious about what happens next. _Mine,_ Carrie thinks.

The lights go dim and Franny is in a slight panic. She stares into Carrie's eyes begging them to respond, and they do. Carrie guides her attention to what's going on, the something going on.

"It's for you baby," she tells her.

They bring out a small pink, circular birthday cake with a one in the middle. Carrie sings - because she wants to - and it is less than mediocre, but Franny doesn't seem to mind. Franny claps along with everyone when it's over, content with the celebration. She then seeks approval before digging her hands into the cake.

"Thank you," she mouths to Quinn as he looks over them. There wasn't a better way that he could think of to let her spend this day than without her.

And when it's time for her to go at the end of the night, Carrie doesn't dwell over it. She says goodbye to them and it's all okay. Okay because she knows she'll see them both again and again. Okay because it's what she wants.

* * *

"You took your first steps today, all on your own."

"I did. I did it," Carrie says with a smile that she can't seem to wipe away, it' chronic these days.

"You can't stop, can you?" Dr Whitmer says . "It's not over yet."

"I know. I know. I'm ready though."

"I know you are. You'll be out of here before you know it."

Carrie nods.

"What do plan on doing when you get out of here?"

"Just... go home." Is all she has in mind. "Can we cut it short today? They'll be here soon."


	17. Total reconciliation

Carrie sorts them out one at a time to make sure they're right, eight piles of eight. She likes that they let her do this on her own, that they trust her. One pile she takes and the other seven go in their slots. This is one element of privacy that she's grateful for.

She ponders her day, thinking of something to do. They had told her she should start packing as she was leaving soon. It would good a good activity to keep her moving, so she does. In the middle of it, she hears the door knocking knowing exactly who was at the other end.

Carrie wraps her dainty arms around him and locks them the best she can. She takes in his scent each time she does. The faintest smell of cologne lingers from when he put in on eight hours ago, taking it in as if it would be the last time she sees him. He'd been taking such good care of himself just as she was.

Quinn always tries his best to not hold on too tight. It's a constant worry in his mind that he'll accidentally hurt her, so instead he holds on longer, though every moment he fears her knees might just buckle and he's ready if it happens. In his mind he counts down the days until she can leave and he can see her everyday.

He slowly backs away and the glimmer in his eyes is still there. It has been so hard for her to accept that this is what he wants - to be with her - not some obligation. The thought boggles her mind, but she been looking at herself differently too, because it's not just Quinn who's seeing it. He's not the only one who has a smile on his face when they see her.

"One week," she reminds him, as if it wasn't a staple in his head already.

He smiles anyways knowing she had to say it and he doesn't mind at all.

"Sit," she says.

"I heard... that you had a visitor yesterday," he says.

"What, you stalking my family now creep?" She teases he, raising a brow.

"Maybe. Your sister said she wants to keep me."

"Well I don't share."

"You share Franny," he jokingly accuses her.

"Tell me about it," she laughs. "Yesterday I had to pry her out of everyone's arms. They said they didn't want to give her back."

"And what did you say?"

"Sure, why not?" Their laughter continues.

Quinn stays pretty quiet for a moment, but a good quiet. He's content right where he is.

"Hey do you want to go to frozen dreams?" She proposes.

"Ice cream?"

She nods.

"They closed right after Labor day. I took her there a few weeks ago when it was still warm and they were closed."

"Shit!" She sighs. "I don't care how cold it is. I still want it."

"We could go to the grocery store."

She hasn't been in public in four months and she hasn't really thought about it either.

"Yeah, yeah let's go," she agrees. A good walk should do her some good too.

* * *

He drives her there, but senses concern in her eyes - though she denies it. They walk in and she looks around like it's a giant indoor city. She focuses on each step, determined to reach her destination.

"You okay?" He finally asks.

"Yeah, fine."

He can see it though, how overwhelmed she looks. All of these people rushing around on a busy Saturday afternoon. They all have their lives down, and to her, her new life is just beginning. Assimilating was going to take some time.

She treads at a decent pace, not quite up to speed, yet not sinking. The kid behind her doesn't seem to think so, huffing even though the traffic is heavy as it is. Carrie can hear him, but refuses to pay attention. Quinn can hear him too, and holds her hand to give her a boost until they make it to the next aisle.

"Fucking pokey," the kid says to his friend. "Gimpy here in front of us."

Quinn clenches his teeth, ready to beat the shit out of the potential victim behind them.

A few seconds later, the kid gives her a quick shove and she starts going down until Quinn quickly intervenes, breaking her fall. Quinn turns around so quickly, she didn't even see it happen. He uses his body to slam the teenager to the shelf, knocking countless items over, and Carrie knows what's coming and she can't stop it. They've unknowingly awaken the beast.

She closes her eyes for a second, and Quinn is only staring into his eyes with that icy gaze he gets when he's about to snap someone in two. It's Quinn the assassin. Soon enough his hands will be around his neck or his fist will pound so hard into this boy's face that it will look the a murder scene. But then it doesn't. Quinn just continues to stare into his eyes, and the boy looks like he ready to vomit, knowing he made his biggest mistake yet. Knowing that Quinn was literally the last person on the planet that he should be fucking with right now.

"Get the fuck away from her," Quinn finally says, quietly letting him go. He takes a second to breathe after releasing him before seeing if she's okay.

Carrie's beyond relieved that Quinn didn't do anything and she can hardly say anything.

"Mint?" Is all she asks.

"Sure."

* * *

"What do you live here?" She asks as she finally sees his frequently visited motel room across the street.

"Sometimes," he admits.

"Thanks... for not doing anything back there."

"Fuck em'," he brushes it off, sitting next to her on the bed.

"No Quinn, I know how hard it is... for you."

"I wanted to fucking kill him."

"But you didn't."

"He hurt you," Quinn reminds her.

"I'll live."

And it's this exact reason why he didn't do it. If she could get better than so can he. As she looks straight ahead, he swoops in to tilt her face back towards him.

"I can't do this without you."

She'd known it all along, but it was different now that he's saying it out loud. Soon enough his mouth naturally clings to hers and his body immediately reacts to the need. No longer can he savor their slow kisses. It's the devouring that he craves. He's scatter brained, trying to channel what she's thinking, knowing that it's close.

Despite what he's thinking, she senses how calm and patient he's being - though his breath is more heated than usual. A match waiting submissively for it's chance to ignite. His limp hands roam from her hair to her cheek, creating vibrant sensations impossible to ignore.

She pushes at his chest, forcing their lips apart, but doesn't let go of the fabric of his shirt. Instead she tugs it upward and he does the rest. When they are both bare, finally ready, he falters. She sees why and calls him out.

"Quinn, I'm fine. You're not going to break me."

He trembles as he gently lays her down, still weary about causing her harm. For the time being, he lies next to her propping up his head, not yet touching her, just admiring her form. She takes his hand for him, guiding it towards her, enticing his diluted anticipation.

His hand molds to her, and once it's there he can't stop. Kneading and rubbing every inch of her, he looms above her now. The massage is satisfying, a good start.

He leans forward above her, placing a hand over each nipple. Two fingers slide side by side, pulling and twisting them slightly, creating just the right amount of desired fiction. Her eyes roll back now and guttural moans are released over and over, her mouth agape. His dexterity favorable in every act he does. The louder and more frequently she moans, the more his cock aches, a pulsing premonition. As she loosens, he becomes more and more stiff. This was certainly different than their time before because she wants this too.

He abandons her when her pleasure is just too much. His cock needs to be nurtured and soon. When he tilts her to her side, he runs his hands ever so delicately down her spine to provoke any sign of pain. Instead it sends a tingle like she'd never felt before.

"Do it again," she says.

Quinn goes in the opposite direction this time, hoping to get a more vocal reaction this time - which he does. His abdomen presses against her back, aligning himself up to her, his hardness throbbing against her slit. He takes one arm under her between her and the sheets, wrapping it around her to hold her steady. The other hand comes around her to feel her heat, and the surge is mutual.

When he pushes her top leg forward, he enters her slowly from behind. His hips rock gently into her, moving with ease giving how wet she is. A gentle rhythm of shallow, then deep thrusts permeate, sending a blaze to her core.

"Ugh, yeah Quinn."

She reaches behind her, feeling his face close to her scalp. There no need to see his face as she can feel his raptured facial expressions taking over. It's almost hard for her to believe that he could be this sensual without being a complete animal.

It's not slow and torturous like she anticipated, but endearing. His heavy breathing turns into grunts, as he attempts to hold her closer to his body. Every time he rolls his hips against her backside, the flame grows bigger, stronger, his whole body shaken erratically by pleasure spasms. Yet he manages to keep it a tender pace.

She can feel his heart racing so quickly against her back that it's practically vibrating. The need to move her hips becomes a necessity, even just a little bit. When she starts moving he stops, buried deep inside of her fearing the worst. She continues stirring his member, rousing him all over again.

"Keep going," she assures him anyways.

The acute sensitivity is alluring, stimulating each others desires. Their skin becomes slippery against one another, as the sweat between them doesn't have the room to evaporate. They can't even recognize each other voices with the sounds they're making, and they don't really care either. She tightens around him, legs are wobbling, but makes sure to keep moving. Though his cock is throbbing so much, there's hardly a need for him to move for the pleasure to pervade.

The transformation is complete when he fills her completely while flickering a single finger delicately across her clit. She quivers in bliss, fluttering sensations spread throughout. He's still moving deep inside her, making the pleasure almost painful. Like a welcomed seizure, her convulsions are impossible to stop.

As she shutters he can't stop his own release. He's firmly wedged, groaning with the intense wave of gradification, flooding with satisfaction. Their bodies shiver together after the relentless amount of heat between them. She shakes in his arms as he slides out of her, but the recovery is quick.

He kisses the back of her head and they don't exchange any words. She wonders how her life would be had she met him sooner, and he's thinking the exact same thing. Their futures dependent on each other.

* * *

Days go by and he's gone back home. He doesn't feel right bringing her home without Franny and she agrees. But his absence takes an unexpected turn.

As happy as she's been, suddenly anxiety takes over. When he leaves, her minds drifts into the abyss of territory that she's tried so hard to fight off. Her own homecoming, which is suppose to bring her joy is only spiraling into a tunnel of doubt. That she doesn't deserve what she has coming and she's not sure how to maintain it.

She lies awake all night debating her futile apprehension, really starting to convince herself it's all in her head. Let down by so many for so long, maybe this really is her chance. Maybe it just took this long and she just has to accept that. Now she's mad at herself for even thinking that it was all a lie, because it's not. Just the last shred of doubt for total reconciliation to happen.

It's late now, around two in the morning, just starting to let herself rest and her phone vibrates. Quinn had already called to say goodnight, though she's sure it's him again.

Quinn isn't calling though, it's Saul. He's in a place where she's disconnected herself from and can't picture herself again. But when she ignores his call, he calls again. What could he possibly want from her anyways?

The vibrating doesn't stop and she has to force herself to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Carrie? Did I wake you?"

"No... what do you want Saul?"

"How are you?"

"I'm fine. I'm leaving here in a few days."

"Wow, that's fantastic!" He's utterly surprised.

"Saul, it's late here."

"I know. I know. It's just-"

And those two words capture her full attention. She really wants to know.

"Just what?!" She presses.

"There are some documents missing. We're cleaning the place up and I was wondering if you could help me out?"

She'd forgotten of course, but she knows exactly what he's talking about.

"I know where they are." She tells him.

"Tell me."

"I can't."


	18. Doesn't dare

A/n: This is the final chapter, but it is spit into p1 and 2. Part 2 will be up soonish. It got verrrry long.

* * *

"Carrie, you need to tell me."

"I'll come myself," she says. And for some reason saying it out loud feels so good.

Saul sighs. He knows it's completely unrealistic, but also knew it was at least possibility if he called her that she would try. The carrot would dangle in a way. "I don't think that it's a good idea Carrie. In fact, I'm telling you it's a no."

He's telling her what she's already thinking, but she has to. She has to go there one last time and see the world she's leaving behind, properly. It had been so abrupt and unfair. If it's how she thinks she remembers, when she returns back home, she'll absolutely know that she made the right decision. And there's still that chance that everything there will be better, they'll need her, and she'll never know if she doesn't go now. No one will even realize she's gone.

"It's tricky Saul. I hid them. I'm the only one that can get to them," her manipulation begins. She refuses to tell him.

"Just tell me Carrie. There's no chance of me sponsoring a trip for you. Let it go."

"I don't care. I'll call you when I land."

"Carrie! Carrie! Damnit!"

* * *

"I've been thinking about you," he says in a voice that he only uses with her.

"Me too," she says back. But there's no weight to it even though she is. She's actually been thinking about him all night which is why talking to him while he's 500 miles away is making it worse.

"What wrong?" He knows.

"Nothing," her voice is so sweet this time that he wants to believe her.

"Do you want me come down now? I can leave today."

"No, no."

"Are you sure?"

She closes her eyes finally taking in that she is flat-out lying to him. "Yeah."

It's quiet, only the sound of each others breaths are heard. He fidgets with the application of his new apartment, close to Maggie's house, not wanting to complete it until she's back home. To maybe do something together - eventually.

"Well there's one thing."

"What? What is it?" Is spiraling and he has to know. Her well being finding the slot as his top priority.

"I'm going to be here a few more days than I thought. Okay?"

He pouts and knows she can't see him, but doesn't want to deflect any negative energy anymore.

"Just feel better," he smiles, knowing that she knows he is. It amazes him that something like that was possible.

"I will... and thank you, for everything Quinn. I mean it."

His humble self doesn't want to hear this from her. In ways she saved him more than he had saved her that day. He's acclimating like he never thought he could, all because she brought him home - no matter how bittersweet. Like a sweet catastrophe.

"You don't have to say that Carrie."

"I want to."

He sits a second, just content knowing she's on the other line. "Um... Carrie?" His voice gets softer.

"Yeaaah?"

He sounded nervous, but now she does too.

"I uh..."

She waits in agony for his words. Why can't he form them?

"I can't wait to see you," he mutters.

She exhales, not sure if she could handle being told something else.

"I'll see you soon Quinn. Give Franny a kiss for me, okay?"

"I will."

"Call me when you're on your way?"

"Yeah." On the way? He can't fathom not talking to her for that long.

"Bye."

"Bye."

She stares around at her at the empty room, feeling guilty about what she's doing. No one will understand - except for maybe Saul. Once she's there he'll be fine with it too and the familiarity will come into play and she'll fix the mess she made, fix it all.

She's feeling good right now, better than before. Even if it's just for a few days, she'll get her fix. That one last thrill before her life - the life she wants - then head into uncharted territory. Just one more time.

* * *

Once again the plane is bumpy and she can't sleep. Her palm full of pills looks anything but an option right now, but they're needed. She's absolutely convinced that they'll come right back up if she even tries. Quinn's heavy meals and wine would be downright perfect at this moment to stomach them, Franny's smile would remind her of why it's so important. The satallites that continue to orbit, the kept her going.

The shooting pains become unbearable, and she forces herself to swallow them knowing that there's a pain killer somewhere in there. Food's not exactly ideal given it's a commercial flight, but she eats in anyway to keep it all down. She has to find some sort of sleep in order to focus, her own focus.

Nothing helps. She's still wide awake and it's not the pain or the plane. She misses home, she misses them. The first trip that she actually has.

* * *

"Why'd ya come," Saul says under his breath. "Come here."

He can't help but be happy she's here and even more so can't believe the progress she made, but she shouldn't have come now. All she needs to do is tell him where it is, nothing more.

His arms wrap around her feeling how fragile she is, how weak her embrace feels. It's almost like she's relying on him for support and if he lets go, she'll fall right to the floor. She pulls back slowly to explain her immediate needs.

"I'm tired Saul."

"Come on. I got a room for you."

"I already have one," she says.

"Of course you do."

"Saul I've got to lay down now," she admits.

"I'll drive you."

* * *

Quinn's getting impatient now. He walks around aimlessly, no plans in mind. Not until she's home when everything he's put together can just fit piece by piece.

He wants to call her, but it won't be the same as seeing her. It's when he sees her that everything that's happened all makes sense. That he knows he's exactly where he needs to be and that he's never wanted anything or anyone more. He doesn't believe in fate, he just happened to get lucky. It was always luck from the beginning and it's still going. What a streak.

* * *

It's a whole day before she recuperates. The unexpected toll that it's taken on her body had been entirely overlooked. She's mostly surprised that Saul hasn't bothered her yet.

It's a fantastic room she's in. Unbeknownst to the government, they've been paying for it for the past six months and still have another month to go. All written off on her expense report as food and clothing. Her past of denial.

She'd keep a lot of a stuff in here. The things she didn't want people to see; her notes, the private asset list that Saul wants, a few personal items. She knows for a fact that if anyone but herself had recovered these items that she'd be done with them for good. An open window in the company is vital, just in case, her purge.

She'd even brought Aayan here, before he found her out. He'd seen the pictures of her family that she'd left up and asked about them. It's nauseating to think that it'd only been days after her father's funeral and she must have been solely thinking about herself. It's hazy mostly, but the pit of her soul is letting her remember that is was exactly that.

The tears form as she takes each one of them out of their frames and takes a hard look at them, so much more valuable than that list across the room. She doesn't dare cry for herself, only tears for them. It's home where she needs to be. There's nothing left for her here. Probably nothing she can knows this now.

* * *

'Carrie, it's me Saul. Can you pick up your damn phone.'

'Carrie just let me know where it is, please. Call me back.'

Saul leaves a few messages, but it's like she's not even there, like she's somewhere else. When she's done, she eventually checks her phone again praying that Saul has called so she can just get out of there.

"Saul, I have it."

"Where are you?"

"Same place."

"It was there the whole time!?"

"I want to leave Saul! I want... I want to go home."

"I'll be there in twenty minutes. Keep your damn phone on you!"


	19. Douse the fire with gasoline

Saul knew it from the moment she arrived. There was no fire in her eyes, not even a spark. He thinks she may have convinced herself to come, that she had to. It's hard for him to image that she's done for good. There will come a time, and the flame will ignite - just not now.

He bustles through the early evening traffic. The urgency to get that list and to get her out of here before anyone finds out she was ever here becomes much more real. She's fragile and useless, now just a liability to them - to him.

* * *

Carrie packs her things one by one, pacified with how she's spending her time. These weren't props, but prizes she takes. The pictures, silly trinkets, the letters from her father; all the only things she has to prove she was ever here. It's at least something to show for.

The CIA has one agenda; depletion by design. Take everything you have until it's all you have left. When it's all you have left, you give yourself to it. It's what works best, but no more, not a damn thing more. She has nothing left to give them - beside that list. They can have it for all she cares.

* * *

Saul parks near the valet and waves them off knowing she should be down at any moment.

"Fuck Carrie. Where are you?" Saul talks to himself.

A few cars pull up, and he ducks. He recognizes some of them, as he's been frequently followed. Thankfully, he took a new car today.

He crouches further down, yet still keeping a close eye, and he almost doesn't notice he's been spotted. The evil glare on the driver's side window is familiar, too familiar. A blaze in these pair of eyes. There's absolutely no time to spare.

He dials and dials, hanging up a few times until finally reaching her.

"Carrie god damnit! They know you're here! I'm coming in!" He screams.

Fuck, this was the last thing she needed was a rushed departure. She'd actually been going through it all with a fine-toothed comb.

"No stay! I need you to stay in the car so we can leave the second I get outside. Do you hear me Saul!?"

"Fine. But stay on the line."

"Okay!"

She's out of there so fast that she ditches the key in the room, but forgets the list.

"Fuck!"

"What!?" Saul panics.

"Nothing. I'm coming." She waits and waits for the elevator to light up, but it becomes quite obvious that there's nothing coming at all. "Shit! The elevators are fucking frozen!"

She presses the button over and over, agitated with the result. Her palms sweat, she's anxious, but that fucking light just won't come on. Reliance on a moving metal box to keep her safe, she realizes just how bad of an idea it was to come here in the first place when her only redemption was in recovering the items that should have been home all along.

Saul keeps his cool given that she's the one in trouble, but does his best to offer help.

"Take the south stairs. The one that says employees only."

She closes her eyes just imaging how grueling it was going to be to do. In fact, it's damn near impossible.

"Saul?" The fear in her voice is piercing. He knows that she knows just how bad this really was. But it's no time to reminder her how against he was her coming here to begin with.

"Carrie I have to come in!"

"No, I got it!"

It'd been forgotten that she was on the 20th floor. She looks down the stairwell and knows it's futile and she'll never make it. There's absolutely no way around it, but she tries anyway because she must make it home.

Each step seems like a milestone, but she's hardly down the first flight. The voices seem imagined at first until they flow. They're coming, maybe a dozen flights down. She peeks into the 19th floor, but someone's there too. No where to go but up, surrounded.

* * *

After four flights of steps the sweat pools, she's shaking, exasperated. The misery of whether she'll ever catch her breath or not leaves her petrified. Total depletion of air, until she's on the roof. She crawls to the other side of wall surrounding the door, sits in the fetal position, and waits for more air. It comes suddenly, all at once, and it's okay again.

They're coming now. She can hear the echos getting closer and closer, but she's to exhausted to move. Maybe they'll just take her into custody and Saul with find a way to get her released. The hot sun beats down on her sheltered skin, and she can almost hear the hissing sound it makes.

She closes her eyes and imagines she's home, far away from here. Quinn's holding her tight letting her know that everything's okay. Now she's angry at herself all over again for the lies. He'll be so disappointed, even if he doesn't show it. That's just how good she has it.

They push and push until the door gives, finding her almost immediately.

"Get up!" They shout, but she doesn't hear them. She' still lost in her mind of where she'd rather be.

She's yanked off the ground by her hair and arms and the swell of pain is instant. This wasn't an arrest.

"You are going," one of them says as he hands a younger boy his gun.

They start dragging her, her feet slide against the roof and she helpless. She has to do something, say something, anything.

The energy spikes, the adrenaline appears - enough for a good jab to the rib cage - and she runs as fast as she possibly can, but there's nowhere to go. She finds herself on the edge of the building looking down 24 stories to a concrete slab. No ladder, no stairs, just a straight path to pavement, and they catch up almost a quickly as she ran.

"There's nowhere to go!" The man screams, grabbing hold of her arms again and turns her around.

"Leave me alone. I don't even know who you are!" She screams back, angry with the lack of control.

There's no register with her words, only a cold stare of empathy. He is sure to let her see that as he tilts her head slightly over the edge.

"Yes, but we know who you are."

He cocks his head at the boy, and the prior instructions seem clear as he raises the gun, holding it just below her chin.

"Do you know who this is?" He points to the teenager.

She takes a long, hard look at the kid and can see it in his eyes. The same eyes of the man she was hunting. She denies it anyways.

"No! Please! Let me go! I have a daughter," she takes a breath, not realizing that she's begun to cry, not realizing that she pleading for her life, only now realizing why she hadn't jumped before. "She needs me!"

"Well you see he doesn't have a father." It's as if she's only given them more fuel.

He prompts the boy to press the gun against her throat a little tighter, but he's clumsy and shaking. She can tell it's not in him to pull that trigger. He' not like his father.

"I can give you anything you want. I will leave here and never come back again! Please!"

"Some things are irreplaceable."

It's insane, but wasn't that the truth.

The heat seems to spread and sun rays boil everything they touch. She feels her neck smoldering from the heat of the barrel against her sensitive skin. But it's her heart that hurts the most, because she knows she's not going to make it off this rooftop alive.

This moment in time had been anticipated before, all under her own will. There's no choice now, no going back. This grave was dug the second she got on that plane.

She thinks of her life for a moment and only a moment. There's nothing to think about. Just that it happened and it's about to end. And when the kid can't do it and the gun finds someone else hands, the only thing she knows is that she needs a moment more.

No evaluation, she just does it, hardly hearing the bullet that just missed her. She thinks about Quinn for a second, but can only think about Franny, just her. It's all that she can see.

Her presence, her existence will remain and she'll miss it all. Soothing her when all has gone wrong and making her laugh when all is right. The unexplainable joy that was a gift in the last few months in her life. It's all she can remember.

She knows what's about to happen, but that's okay. What's not okay is how she left them, how she abandon them without saying a word, and what they're going to think. Funny that it's ending with regret, just how she'd always imagined. She just never imagined it with other people on the line.

Carrie sees that little girl's face, and won't let it fade away. Her bright, happy, cherubic face. If she could, she'd change just about everything she's ever done. Go back and just fix it all, except Franny. How lucky is she to be thinking about someone so exhilarating, when she should be mortified. But she has the moment and that's all she can think about, and then nothing, nothing at all.

* * *

A/n:

**I know**

**I know**

**I know**

Don't hate me, it's been the plan ALL along. It will never happen again. It's just "what if" Carrie went too far in Pakistan type of thing. And couldn't stop it.

* * *

P.s. I'm writing a one shot sequel called 'cold spell' with how Quinn copes. It just won't fit with this story's end and will work much better on it's own.


End file.
